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TEA  ON  THE  LAWN  AT  THE  OXFORD  UNION  (page  63) 


AN  AMERICAN  AT 
OXFORD , 

BT 

JOHN  CORBIN 

AUTHOR    OF   "SCHOOLBOY    LIFE   IN    ENGLAND" 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 


BOSTON   AND   NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

<$&  H*itoer#be  pre??,  Camfcri&ae 

1903 


C7 


COPYRIGHT,  1902,  BY  JOHN  CORBIN 
ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 

Published  May,  igo2 


TO 

A.  F.  C. 


t>  /  > 


IVHJABS 


*■ 


PREFACE 

BY  a  curious  coincidence,  the  day  on  which  the 
last  proof  of  this  book  was  sent  to  the 
printer  saw  the  publication  of  the  will  of  the  late 
Cecil  Rhodes,  providing  that  each  of  the  United 
States  is  forever  to  be  represented  at  Oxford  by 
two  carefully  selected  undergraduate  students. 
That  the  plan  will  result  in  any  speedy  realiza- 
tion of  the  ideals  of  the  great  exponent  of  Eng- 
lish power  in  the  new  worlds  is  perhaps  not  to 
be  expected.  For  the  future  of  American  educa- 
tion, on  the  other  hand,  few  things  could  be  more 
fortunate.  Native  and  independent  as  our  na- 
tional genius  has  always  been,  and  seems  likely  to 
remain,  it  has  always  been  highly  assimilative. 
In  the  past,  we  have  received  much  needed  aliment 
from  the  German  universities.  For  the  present, 
the  elements  of  which  we  have  most  need  may  best, 
as  I  think,  be  assimilated  from  England. 

Whether  or  not  Americans  at  Oxford  become 
imbued  with  Mr.  Rhodes's  conceptions  as  to  the 
destiny  of  the  English  peoples,  they  can  scarcely 


PKEFACE 

fail  to  observe  that  Oxford  affords  to  its  under- 
graduates a  very  sensibly  ordered  and  invigorating 
life,  a  very  sensibly  ordered  and  invigorating  edu- 
cation. This,  as  I  have  endeavored  to  point  out 
in  the  following  pages,  our  American  universities 
do  not  now  afford,  nor  are  they  likely  to  afford  it 
until  the  social  and  the  educational  systems  are 
more  perfectly  organized  than  they  have  ever 
been,  or  seem  likely  to  be,  under  the  dominance 
of  German  ideals.  If,  however,  the  new  Oxford- 
trained  Americans  should  ever  become  an  impor- 
tant factor  in  our  university  life,  the  future  is 
bright  with  hope.  We  have  assimilated,  or  are 
assimilating,  the  best  spirit  of  German  education  ; 
and  if  we  were  to  make  a  similar  draft  on  the 
best  educational  spirit  in  England,  our  universities 
would  become  far  superior  as  regards  their  organi- 
zation and  ideals,  and  probably  also  as  regards 
what  they  accomplish,  to  any  in  Europe.  The  pur- 
pose and  result  of  an  introduction  of  English 
methods  would  of  course  not  be  to  imitate  foreign 
custom,  but  to  give  fuller  scope  to  our  native  char- 
acter, so  that  if  the  American  educational  ideals 
in  the  end  approximate  the  English  more  closely 
than  they  do  at  present,  such  a  result  would  be 
merely  incidental  to  the  fact  that  the  two  countries 
vi 


PREFACE 

have  at  bottom  much  the  same  social  character  and 
instincts.  If  Mr.  Rhodes's  dream  is  to  be  realized, 
it  will  probably  be  in  some  such  tardy  and  round- 
about but  admirably  vital  manner  as  this. 

At  a  superficial  glance  the  testator's  intention 
seems  to  have  been  to  send  the  students  to  Oxford 
directly  from  American  schools.  Such  a  course, 
it  seems  to  me,  could  only  work  harm.  Even  if 
the  educational  and  residential  facilities  afforded 
at  Oxford  were  on  the  whole  superior  to  those  of 
American  universities,  which  they  are  not,  the  dif- 
ference could  not  compensate  the  student  for  the 
loss  of  his  American  university  course  with  all  it 
means  in  forming  lifelong  friendships  among  his 
countrymen  and  in  assimilating  the  national  spirit. 
If,  however,  the  Oxford  scholarships  were  awarded 
to  recent  graduates  of  American  universities,  the 
greatest  advantage  might  result.  The  student 
might  then  modify  his  native  training  so  as  to 
complete  it  and  make  it  more  effective.  Now  the 
wording  of  the  testament  requires  only  that  the 
American  scholars  shall  "  commence  residence  as 
undergraduates."  This  they  will  be  able  to  do 
whatever  their  previous  training,  and  in  fact  this 
is  what  Americans  at  Oxford  have  always  done  in 
the  past.  The  most  valuable  A.  B.  leaves  the  field 
vii 


PREFACE 

of  human  knowledge  far  from  exhausted;  and  the 
methods  of  instruction  and  of  examining  at  Oxford 
are  so  different  from  anything  we  know  that  it  has 
even  proved  worth  while  for  the  American  to  re- 
peat at  Oxford  the  same  studies  he  took  in  Amer- 
ica. The  executors  of  the  will  should  be  most 
vigorously  urged  to  select  the  scholars  from  the 
graduates  of  American  universities. 

The  parts  of  this  book  that  treat  most  intimately 
of  Oxford  life  were  written  while  in  residence  in 
Balliol  College  some  six  years  ago.  Most  of  the 
rest  was  written  quite  recently  in  London.  Much 
,of  the  matter  in  the  following  pages  has  appeared 
in  "Harper's  Weekly,"  "The  Bachelor  of  Arts," 
"  The  Forum,"  and  "  The  Atlantic  Monthly."  It 
has  all  been  carefully  revised  and  rearranged,  and 
much  new  matter  added.  Each  chapter  has  gained, 
as  I  hope,  by  being  brought  into  its  natural  rela- 
tion with  the  other  chapters ;  and  the  ideas  that 
have  informed  the  whole  are  for  the  first  time  ade- 
quately stated. 


CONTENTS 

chap.  pagb 

Introductory 1 

L  THE  UNIVERSITY  AND  THE  COLLEGE 

I.  The  University  of  Colleges    ....  7 

II.  The  Oxford  Freshman 10 

III.  A  Day  in  an  Oxford  College         ...  17 

IV.  Dinner  in  Hall 21 

0 

V.  Evening 28 

VI.  The  Mind  of  the  College 37 

VII.   Club  Life  in  the  College         ....  52 

VIII.  Social  Life  in  the  University    ....  62 

IX.  The  College  and  the  University  ...  74 

II.  OXFORD  OUT  OF  DOORS 

I.  Slacking  on  the  Isis  and  the  Cherwell         .  81 

II.  As  seen  from  an  Oxford  Tub          ...  96 

III.  A  Little  Scrimmage  with  English  Rugby        .  116 

IV.  Track  and  Field  Athletics     ....  132 
V.  English  and  American  Sportsmanship       .        .  145 

HI.  THE  COLLEGE  AS  AN  EDUCATIONAL  FORCE 

I.  The  Passman 159 

SfL  The  Honor  Schools       .        .        .        .        .        .  171 

>HX  The  Tutor 178 

IV.  Reading  for  Examinations 184 

ix 


CONTENTS 

V.  The  Examination 190 

/^VL  Oxford  Qualities  and  their  Defects        .        .  193 

VII.   The  University  and  Reform   ....  200 

VIII.  The  University  and  the  People        .        .        .  206 

IV.  THE  HISTORY  OF    THE    UNIVERSITY  AND  THE 

COLLEGE 

I.  The  University  before  the  College     .        .  215 

II.  Th*  Medleval  Hall 221 

III.  The  College  System 223 

IV.  The  Golden  Age  of  the  Medieval  Hall        .  231 
V.  The  Origin  of  the  Modern  Undergraduate  236 

VI.  The  Insignificance  of  the  Modern  University  239 

>,  VII.  The  College  in  America 245 

V.  THE  PROBLEMS  OF  THE  AMERICAN  UNIVERSITY 
,y  I.  The  Social  and  Athletic  Problem    .        .        .  255 

^  II.   The  Administrative  Problem  ....  272 

-  "III.  The  Educational  Problem 281 

V  IV.  The  American  Hall 301 

APPENDIX 

I.  Athletic  Training  in  England  ....  313 

II.  Climate  and  International  Athletics  .        .  316 

IH.  An  Oxford  Final  Honor  School        .       .       .319 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Tea  on  the  Lawn  at  the  Oxford  Union  {page  63)  Frontispiece 

The  Hall  Staircase,  Christ  Church         ....  22 

Magdalen  Tower  from  the  Bridge       ....  30 

A  Racing  Punt  and  Punter 84 

Iffley  Lock  and  Mill 90 

The  Full  Costume  of  an  Eightsman        ....  100 

The  College  Barges :  Tubbing  in  November  Floods     .  106 
The  Last  Day  of  the  Bumping  Races  of  the  Summer 

Eights  (1895) 112 

An  English  Rugby  Line-up 120 

Throwing  in  the  Ball 124 

New  College  Cloisters,  Bell  Tower,  and  Chapel  .        .  224 
New  College  Gardens  —  showing  the  Mediceval  Wall  of 

Oxford 228 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 


THE  great  German  historian  of  the  United 
States,  H.  E.  Von  Hoist,  declares 1  that, . 
"  in  the  sense  attached  to  the  word  by  Europeans, 
.  .  .  there  is  in  the  United  States  as  yet  not  a 
single  university ;  "  institutions  like  Johns  Hopkins 
and  Harvard  he  characterizes  as  "  hybrids  of  col- 
lege and  university."  In  his  survey  of  European 
usage,  one  suspects  that  Professor  Von  Hoist  failed 
to  look  beyond  Germany.  The  so-called  univer- 
sities of  England,  for  example,  are  mere  aggrega- 
tions of  colleges ;  they  have  not  even  enough  of 
the  modern  scientific  spirit  to  qualify  as  hybrids, 
having  consciously  and  persistently  refused  to  adopt 
continental  standards.  The  higher  institutions  of 
America  belong  historically  to  the  English  type ; 
they  have  only  recently  imported  the  scientific 
spirit.  To  the  great  world  of  graduates  and  under- 
graduates they  are  colleges,  and  should  as  far  as 
possible  be  kept  so. 

Yet  there  is  reason   enough   for  calling  them 

1  Educational  Review,  vol.  v.  p.  113. 
1 


AN   AMERICAN   AT   OXFORD 

hybrids.  In  the  teaching  bodies  of  all  of  them 
the  German,  or  so-called  university,  spirit  is  very 
strong,  and  is  slowly  possessing  the  more  advanced 
of  our  recent  graduates  and  undergraduates.  Let 
us  be  duly  grateful.  The  first  result  of  this  spirit 
is  an  extraordinary  quickening  and  diffusion  of 
the  modern  ideal  of  scholarship,  a  devotion  to  pure 
science  amounting  almost  to  a  passion.  As  to  the 
second  result,  we  may  or  may  not  have  cause  to 
be  grateful.  Our  most  prominent  educational 
leaders  have  striven  consciously  to  make  over  our 
universities  on  the  German  plan.  We  are  in  the 
midst  of  a  struggle  between  old  and  new  forces, 
and  at  present  the  alien  element  has  apparently 
the  upper  hand.  The  social  ideal,  which  only  a 
few  years  ago  was  virtually  the  same  in  England 
and  America,  has  already  been  powerfully  modi- 
fied ;  and  the  concrete  embodiment  of  the  new  sci- 
entific spirit,  the  so-called  elective  system,  has 
transformed  the  peculiar  educational  institution  of 
our  Anglo-Saxon  people. 

We  have  gone  so  far  forward  that  it  is  possible 
to  gain  an  excellent  perspective  on  what  we  are 
leaving  behind.  In  the  ensuing  pages  I  propose 
to  present  as  plainly  as  I  may  the  English  uni- 
versity of  colleges.  I  shall  not  hesitate  to  give 
its  social  life  all  the  prominence  it  has  in  fact, 

2 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

devoting  much  space  even  to  athletic  sports.  The 
peculiarity  of  the  English  ideal  of  education  is 
that  it  aims  to  develop  the  moral  and  social  vir- 
tues, no  less  than  the  mental  —  to  train  up  boys 
to  be  men  among  men.  Only  by  understanding 
this  is  it  possible  to  sympathize  with  the  system  of 
instruction,  its  peculiar  excellences,  and  its  almost 
incredible  defects.  In  the  end  I  hope  we  shall 
see  more  clearly  what  our  colleges  have  inherited 
from  the  parent  institutions,  and  shall  be  able  to 
judge  how  far  the  system  of  collegiate  education 
expresses  the  genius  of  English  and  American 
people. 

At  the  present  juncture  of  political  forces  in 
America  this  consideration  has  a  special  impor- 
tance. The  success  with  which  we  exert  our  influ- 
ence upon  distant  peoples  will  depend  upon  what 
manner  of  young  men  we  train  up  to  carry  it  among 
them.  If  the  graduates  of  German  institutions  are 
prepared  to  establish  their  civilization  in  the  impe- 
rial colonies,  the  fact  has  not  yet  been  shown.  The 
colleges  of  England  have  manned  the  British  Em- 
pire. 


THE   UNIVERSITY  AND  THE  COLLEGE 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  COLLEGES 

ONE  of  the  familiar  sights  at  Oxford  is  the 
American  traveler  who  stops  over  on  his 
way  from  Liverpool  to  London,  and,  wandering 
up  among  the  walls  of  the  twenty  colleges  from 
the  Great  Western  Station,  asks  the  first  under- 
graduate he  meets  which  building  is  the  univer- 
sity. When  an  Oxford  man  is  first  asked  this,  he 
is  pretty  sure  to  answer  that  there  is  n't  any  uni- 
versity ;  but  as  the  answer  is  taken  as  a  rudeness, 
he  soon  finds  it  more  agreeable  to  direct  inquirers 
to  one  of  the  three  or  four  single  buildings,  scat- 
tered hither  and  yon  among  the  ubiquitous  col- 
leges, in  which  the  few  functions  of  the  university 
are  performed.  A  traveler  from  our  middle  West, 
where  "  universities  "  often  consist  of  a  single  build- 
ing, might  easily  set  forth  for  London  with  the 
firm  idea  that  the  Ashmolean  Museum  or  the  Bod- 
leian Library  is  Oxford  University. 

To  the  undergraduate  the  university  is  an  ab-  ^ 
stract  institution  that  at  most  examines  him  two 
or  three  times,  "  ploughs  "  him,  or  graduates  him. 
7 


AN  AMERICAN  AT   OXFORD 

He  becomes  a  member  of  it  by  being  admitted  into 
one  of  the  colleges.  To  be  sure,  he  matriculates 
also  as  a  student  of  the  university ;  but  the  cere- 
mony is  important  mainly  as  a  survival  from  the 
historic  past,  and  is  memorable  to  him  perhaps 
because  it  takes  place  beneath  the  beautiful  medi- 
aeval roof  of  the  Divinity  School ;  perhaps  because 
he  receives  from  the  Vice-Chancellor  a  copy  of  the 
university  statutes,  written  in  mediaeval  Latin, 
which  it  is  to  be  his  chief  delight  to  break.  Ex- 
cept when  he  is  in  for  "  schools,"  as  the  examina- 
tions are  called,  the  university  fades  beyond  his 
horizon.  If  he  says  he  is  "reading"  at  Oxford, 
he  has  the  city  in  mind.  He  is  more  likely  to 
describe  himself  as  "  up  at "  Magdalen,  Balliol,  or 
elsewhere.  This  English  idea  that  a  university  is 
a  mere  multiplication  of  colleges  is  so  firmly  fixed 
that  the  very  word  is  defined  as  "  a  collection  of 
institutions  of  learning  at  a  common  centre."  In 
the  daily  life  of  the  undergraduate,  in  his  religious 
observances,  and  in  regulating  his  studies,  the 
college  is  supreme. 

To  an  American  the  English  college  is  not  at 
first  sight  a  wholly  pleasing  object.  It  has  walls 
that  one  would  take  to  be  insurmountable  if  they 
were  not  crowned  with  shards  of  bottles  mortared 
into  the  coping ;  and  it  has  gates  that  seem  capa- 

8 


THE   UNIVERSITY  OF  COLLEGES 

ble  of  resisting  a  siege  until  one  notices  that  they 
are  reinforced  by  a  clieval-de-frise,  or  a  row  of  bent 
spikes  like  those  that  keep  the  bears  in  their  dens 
at  the  Zoo.  Professor  Von  Hoist  would  certainly 
regard  it  as  a  hybrid  between  a  media3vaJ^etotsteE-J 
and  a  nursery ;  and  one  easily  imagines  him  pro- 
ducing no  end  of  evidence  from  its  history  and  tra- 
ditions to  show  that  it  is  so.  Like  so  many  Eng- 
lish institutions,  its  outward  and  visible  signs  belong 
to  the  manners  of  forgotten  ages,  even  while  it  is 
charged  with  a  vigorous  and  very  modern  life.  A 
closer  view  of  it,  I  hope,  will  show  that  in  spite 
of  the  barnacles  of  the  past  that  cling  to  it  —  and 
in  some  measure,  too,  because  of  them  —  it  is  the 
expression  of  a  very  high  ideal  of  undergraduate 
convenience  and  freedom. 


II 

THE  OXFORD  FRESHMAN 

WHEN  a  freshman  comes  up  to  his  college, 
he  is  received  at  the  mediaeval  gate  by 
a  very  modern  porter,  who  lifts  boxes  and  bags 
from  the  hansom  in  a  most  obliging  manner,  and 
is  presently  shown  to  his  cloistral  chambers  by 
a  friendly  and  urbane  butler  or  steward.  To  ac- 
commodate the  newcomers  in  the  more  populous 
colleges,  a  measure  is  resorted  to  so  revolutionary 
that  it  shocks  all  American  ideas  of  academic  pro- 
priety. Enough  seniors  —  fourth  and  third  year  / 
men  —  are  turned  out  of  college  to  make  room  for 
the  freshmen.  The  assumption  is  that  the  upper 
classmen  have  had  every  opportunity  to  profit  by 
the  life  of  the  college,  and  are  prepared  to  flock 
by  themselves  in  the  town.  Little  communities  of 
four  or  five  fellows  who  have  proved  congenial  live 
together  in  "  diggings  "  —  that  is,  in  some  towns- 
man's house  —  hard  by  the  college  gate.  This  ar- 
rangement makes  possible  closer  and  more  intimate 
relationship  among  them  than  would  otherwise  be 
likely ;  and  after  three  years  of  the  very  free  life 
10 


THE  OXFORD  FRESHMAN 

within  those  sharded  walls,  a  cloistered  year  outside 
is  usually  more  than  advisable,  in  view  of  the  final 
examination.  It  cannot  be  said  that  they  leave 
college  without  regret ;  but  I  never  heard  a  word 
of  complaint,  and  it  is  tacitly  admitted  that  on  the 
whole  they  profit  by  the  arrangement. 

The  more  substantial  furnishings  in  the  rooms 
are  usually  permanent,  belonging  to  the  college : 
each  successive  occupant  is  charged  for  interest  on 
the  investment  and  for  depreciation  by  wear.  Thus 
the  furniture  is  far  more  comfortable  than  in  an 
American  college  room  and  costs  the  occupant  less. 
Bed  and  table  linen,  cutlery,  and  a  few  of  the  more 
personal  furnishings  the  student  brings  himself. 
If  one  neglects  to  bring  them,  as  I  confess  I  did 
through  ignorance,  the  deficiency  is  supplied  by  the 
scout,  a  dignitary  in  the  employ  of  the  college,  who 
stands  in  somewhat  more  than  the  place  of  a  servant 
and  less  than  that  of  a  parent  to  half  a  dozen  fellows 
whose  rooms  are  adjacent.  The  scout  levies  on  the 
man  above  for  sheets,  on  the  man  below  for  knives 
and  forks,  and  on  the  man  across  the  staircase  for 
table  linen.  There  is  no  call  for  shame  on  the 
one  part  or  resentment  on  the  other,  for  is  not 
the  scout  the  representative  of  the  hospitality  of 
the  college  ?  "  When  you  have  time,  sir,"  he 
says  kindly,  "  you  will  order  your  own  linen  and 
11 


AN   AMERICAN   AT   OXFORD 

cutlery."  How  high  a  state  of  civilization  is  im- 
plied in  this  manner  of  receiving  a  freshman  can 
be  appreciated  only  by  those  who  have  arrived 
friendless  at  an  American  university,   p- 

The  scout  is  in  effect  a  porter,  "  goody,"  and  eat- 
ing-club waiter  rolled  into  one.  He  has  frequently  a 
liberal  dash  of  the  don,  which  he  has  acquired  by 
extended  residence  at  the  university ;  for  among  all 
the  shifting  generations  of  undergraduates,  only 
he  and  the  don  are  permanent.  When  he  reaches 
middle  age  he  wears  a  beard  if  he  chooses,  and 
then  he  is  usually  taken  for  a  don  by  the  casual 
visitor.  There  is  no  harm  in  this ;  the  scout 
plays  the  part  con  amove,  and  his  long  breeding 
enables  him  to  sustain  it  to  a  marvel.  Yet  for 
the  most  part  the  scout  belongs  with  the  world 
of  undergraduates.  He  has  his  social  clubs  and 
his  musical  societies ;  he  runs,  plays  cricket,  and 
rows,  and,  finally,  he  meets  the  Cambridge  scout 
in  the  inter-varsity  matches.  His  pay  the  scout 
receives  in  part  from  the  college,  but  mostly  from 
the  students,  who  give  him  two  to  four  pounds  a 
term  each,  according  to  his  deserts.  All  broken 
bread,  meat,  and  wine  are  his  perquisites,  and 
tradition  allows  him  to  "  bag "  a  fair  amount  of 
tea,  coffee,  and  sugar.  Out  of  all  this  he  makes 
a  sumptuous  living.  I  knew  only  one  exception, 
12 


THE   OXFORD  FRESHMAN 

and  that  was  when  four  out  of  six  men  on  a  certain 
scout's  staircase  happened  to  be  vegetarians,  and 
five  teetotalers.  The  poor  fellow  was  in  extremities 
for  meat  and  in  desperation  for  drink.  There  was 
only  one  more  pitiable  sight  in  college,  and  that 
was  the  sole  student  on  the  staircase  who  ate  meat 
and  drank  wine ;  the  scout  bagged  food  and  drink 
from  him  ceaselessly.  At  the  end  of  one  term  the 
student  left  a  half  dozen  bottles  of  sherry,  which 
he  had  merely  tasted,  in  his  sideboard ;  and  when 
he  came  back  it  was  gone.  "  Where 's  my  sherry, 
Betts?"he  asked.  "Sherry,  sir?  you  ain't  got 
no  sherry."  "  But  I  left  six  bottles  ;  you  had  no 
right  to  more  than  the  one  that  was  broken."  "  Yes, 
sir ;  but  when  I  had  taken  that,  sir,  the  'arf  dozen 
was  broke."  According  to  Oxford  traditions  the 
student  had  no  recourse ;  and  be  it  set  down  to  his 
praise,  he  never  blamed  the  scout.  He  bemoaned 
the  fate  that  bound  them  together  in  suffering,  and 
vented  his  spleen  on  total  abstinence  and  vegeta- 
rianism. It  may  be  supposed  that  the  scout's  an- 
tiquity and  importance  makes  him  a  bad  servant ; 
in  the  land  of  the  free  I  fear  that  it  would ;  but 
at  Oxford  nothing  could  be  more  unlikely.  The 
only  mark  that  distinguishes  the  scout  from  any 
other  class  of  waiters  is  that  his  attentions  to  your 
comfort  are  carried  off  with  greater  ease  and 
13 


s 


AN   AMERICAN  AT   OXFORD 

dignity.  It  may  be  true  that  he  is  president  of  the 
Oxford  Society  of  College  Servants  —  the  Bones  or 
the  Hasty  Pudding  of  the  scouts ;  that  he  stroked 
the  3couts'  eight  in  the  townie's  bumping  races, 
during  the  long  vac,  and  afterward  rowed  against 
the  scouts'  eight  from  Cambridge ;  that  he  cap- 
tained the  scouts'  cricket  eleven ;  that  in  conse- 
quence he  is  a  "  double  blue  "  and  wears  the  Ox- 
ford 'varsity  color  on  his  hat  with  no  less  pride 
than  any  other  "  blue."  Yet  he  is  all  the  more 
bound,  out  of  consideration  for  his  own  dignity, 
%  ^.to  show  you  every  respect  and  attention. 

After  the  scout,  the  hosts  of  the  college  are  the 
dons.  As  soon  as  the  freshman  is  settled  in  his 
rooms,  or  sometimes  even  before,  his  tutor  meets 
him  and  arranges  for  a  formal  presentation' to  the 
dean  and  master.  All  three  are  apt  to  show  their 
interest  in  a  freshman  by  advising  him'as  to  trying 
for  the  athletic  teams,  joining  the  college  clubs 
and  societies,  and  in  a  word  as  to  all  the  "concerns 
of  undergraduate  life  except  his  studies  —  these 
come  later.  If  a  man  has  any  particular  gift,  ath- 
letic or  otherwise,  the  tutor  introduces  him  to  the 
men  he  should  know,  or,  when  this  is  not  feasible, 
gives  a  word  to  the  upper  classmen,  who  take  the 
matter  into  their  own  hands.  If  a  freshman  has 
nO  especial  gift,  the  tutor  is  quite  as  sure  to  say 
14 


THE   OXFORD   FRESHMAN 

the  proper  word  to  the  fellows  who  have  most  tal- 
ent for  drawing  out  newcomers. 

In  the  first  weeks  of  a  freshman's  residence  r 
he  finds  sundry  pasteboards  tucked  beneath  his  / 
door:  the  upper  classman's  call  is  never  more  than 
the  formal  dropping  of  a  card.  The  freshman  is 
expected  to  return  these  calls  at  once,  and  is 
debarred  by  a  happy  custom  from  leaving  his  card 
if  he  does  not  find  his  man.  He  goes  again  and 
again  until  he  does  find  him.  By  direct  introduc- 
tion from  the  tutor  or  by  this  formality  of  calling, 
the  freshman  soon  meets  half  a  dozen  upper  class- 
men, generally  second-year  men,  and  in  due  time 
he  receives  little  notes  like  this  :  — 

Dear  Smith,  —  Come  to  my  rooms  if  you  can 
to  breakfast  with  Brown  and  me  on  Wednesday 
at  8.30. 

Yours  sincerely, 

A.  Robinson. 

At  table  the  freshman  finds  other  freshmen  whose 
interests  are  presumably  similar  to  his  own. 

No  one  supposes_for  a  moment  that  all  this  is  ^ 
done  out  of  simple  hnmajn  kindness.  The  fresh- 
man breakfast  is  a  conventional  institution  for 
gathering  together  the  unlicked  cubs,  so  that  the 
local  influences  may  take  hold  of  them.  The  rep- 
15 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

utation  of  the  college  in  general  demands  that  it 
keep  up  a  name  for  hospitality  ;  and  in  particular 
the  clubs  and  athletic  teams  find  it  of  advantage 
to  get  the  run  of  all  available  new  material.  The 
freshman  breakfast  is  nothing  in  the  world  but  a 
variation  of  the  "  running  "  that  is  given  newcom- 
ers in  those  American  colleges  where  fraternity 
life  is  strong,  and  might  even  be  regarded  as  a 
NL  more  civilized  form  of  the  rushes  and  cane  sprees 
and  even  hazings  that  used  to  serve  with  us  to 
introduce  newcomers  to  their  seniors.  Many  sec- 
ond-year breakfasts  are  perfunctory  enough ;  the 
host  has  a  truly  British  air  of  saying  that  since 
for  better  or  for  worse  he  is  destined  to  look  upon 
your  face  and  abide  by  your  deeds,  he  is  willing 
to  make  the  best  of  it.  If  you  prove  a  "  bounder," 
you  are  soon  enough  dropped.  "  /  shall  soon 
be  a  second-year  man,"  I  once  heard  a  freshman 
remark,  "  and  then  /  can  ask  freshmen  to  break- 
fast, too,  and  cut  them  afterward."  The  point  is 
that  every  fellow  is  thrown  in  the  way  of  meeting 
the  men  of  his  year.  If  one  is  neglected  in  the 
end,  he  has  no  reason  to  feel  that  it  is  the  fault 
of  the  college.  As  a  result  of  this  machinery  for 
initiating  newcomers,  a  man  usually  ceases  to  be 
a  freshman  after  a  single  term  (two  months)  of 
residence ;  and  it  is  always  assumed  that  he  does. 
16 


Ill 

AY  IN  AN   OXFORD  COLLEGE 


WHEN  a  freshman  is  once  established  in 
college,  his  life  falls  into  a  pleasantly  va- 
ried routine.  The  day  is  ushered  in  by  the  scout, 
who  bustles  into  the  bedroom,  throws  aside  the 
curtain,  pours  out  the  bath,  and  shouts,  "  Half 
past  seven,  sir,"  in  a  tone  that  makes  it  impossible 
to  forget  that  chapel  —  or  if  one  chooses,  roll-call 
—  comes  at  eight.  Unless  one  keeps  his  six  chap- 
els or  "  rollers  "  a  week,  he  is  promptly  "  hauled  " 
before  the  dean,  who  perhaps  "  gates  "  him.  To 
be  gated  is  to  be  forbidden  to  pass  the  college  gate 
after  dark,  and  fined  a  shilling  for  each  night  of 
confinement.  To  an  American  all  this  brings  re- 
collections of  the  paternal  roof,  where  tardiness  at 
breakfast  meant,  perhaps,  the  loss  of  dessert,  and 
bedtime  an  hour  earlier.  I  remember  once,  when 
out  of  training,  deliberately  cutting  chapel  to  see 
with  what  mien  the  good  dean  performed  his  nur- 
sery duties.  His  calm  was  unruffled,  his  dignity 
unsullied.  I  soon  came  to  find  that  the  rules 
about  rising  were  bowed  to  and  indeed  respected 
17 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

by  all  concerned,  even  while  they  were  broken. 
They  are  distinctly  more  lax  than  those  the  fellows 
have  been  accustomed  to  in  the  public  schools,  and 
they  are  conceded  to  be  fo^  the  best  welfare  of  the 
college. 

Breakfast  comes  soon  after  chapel,  or  roll-call. 
If  a  man  has  "  kept  a  dirty  roller,"  that  is,  has 
reported  in  pyjamas,  ulster,  and  boots,  and  has 
turned  in  again,  the  scout  puts  the  breakfast  be- 
fore the  fire  on  a  trestle  built  of  shovel,  poker,  and 
tongs,  where  it  remains  edible  until  noon.  If  a 
man  has  a  breakfast  party  on,  the  scout  nia&es 
sure  that  he  is  stirring  in  season,  and,  hurrying 
through  the  other  rooms  on  the  staircase,  is  pre- 
sently on  hand  for  as  long  as  he  may  be  wanted. 
The  usual  Oxford  breakfast  is  a  single  course, 
which  not  infrequently  consists  of  some  one  of  the 
excellent  English  pork  products,  with  an  egg  or 
kidneys.  There  may  be  two  courses,  in  which 
case  the  first  is  of  the  no  less  excellent  fresh  fish. 
There  are  no  vegetables.  The  breakfast  is  ended 
with  toast  and  jam  or  marmalade.  When  one  has 
fellows  in  to  breakfast,  —  and  the  Oxford  custom 
of  rooming  alone  instead  of  chumming  makes  such 
hospitality  frequent,  —  his  usual  meal  is  increased 
by  a  course,  say,  of  chicken.  In  any  case  it  leads 
to  a  morning  cigarette,  for  tobacco  aids  digestion, 
18 


A  DAY  IN  AN  OXFORD  COLLEGE 

and  helps  fill  the  hour  or  so  after  meals  which  an 
Englishman  gives  to  relaxation. 

At  ten  o'clock  the  breakfast  may  be  interrupted  »• 
for  a  moment  by  the  exit  of  some  one  bent  on  /^" 
attending  a  lecture,  though  one  apologizes  for  such 
an  act  as  if  it  were  scarcely  good  form.  An  ap- 
pointment with  one's  tutor  is  a  more  legitimate 
excuse  for  leaving;  but  even  this  is  always  an 
occasion  for  an  apology,  in  behalf  of  the  tutor  of 
course,  for  one  is  certainly  not  himself  responsible. 
If  a  quorum  is  left,  they  manage  to  sit  comfort- 
ably by  the  fire,  smoking  and  chatting  in  spite  of 
lectures  and  tutors,  until  by  mutual  consent  they 
scatter  to  glance  at  the  "  Times  "  and  the  "  Sports- 
man "  in  the  common-room,  or  even  to  get  in  a  bit 
of  reading. 

Luncheon  often  consists  of  bread  and  cheese 
and  jam  from  the  buttery,  with  perhaps  a  half 
pint  of  bitter  beer ;  but  it  may,  like  the  breakfast, 
come  from  the  college  kitchen.  In  any  case  it  is 
very  light,  for  almost  immediately  after  it  every- 
body scatters  to  field  and  track  and  river  for  the 
exercise  that  the  English  climate  makes  neces- 
sary and  the  sport  that  the  English  temperament 
demands. 

By  four  o'clock  every  one  is  back  in  college 
tubbed  and  dressed  for  tea,  which  a  man  serves 
19 


AN  AMERICAN  AT   OXFORD 

himself  in  his  rooms  to  as  many  fellows  as  he  has 
been  able  to  gather  in  on  field  or  river.  If  he  is 
eager  to  hear  of  the  games  he  has  not  been  able  to 
witness,  he  goes  to  the  junior  common-room  or  to 
his  club,  where  he  is  sure  to  find  a  dozen  or  so  of 
kindred  spirits  representing  every  sport  of  impor- 
tance. In  this  way  he  hears  the  minutest  details 
of  the  games  of  the  day  from  the  players  them- 
selves ;  and  before  nightfall  —  such  is  the  influ- 
ence of  tea  —  those  bits  of  gossip  which  in  Amer- 
ica are  known  chiefly  among  members  of  a  team 
have  ramified  the  college.  Thus  the  function  of 
the  "  bleachers  "  on  an  American  field  is  performed 
with  a  vengeance  by  the  easy-chairs  before  a  com- 
mon-room fire;  and  a  man  had  better  be  kicked 
off  the  team  by  an  American  captain  than  have  his 
shortcomings  served  up  with  common-room  tea. 

The  two  hours  between  tea  and  dinner  may  be, 
and  usually  are,  spent  in  reading. 


20 


IV 

DINNER  IN  HALL 

AT  seven  o'clock  the  college  bell  rings,  and  in  f\ 
^LJL.  two  minutes  the  fellows  have  thrown  on 
their  gowns  and  are  seated  at  table,  where  the 
scouts  are  in  readiness  to  serve  them.  As  a  rule 
a  man  may  sit  wherever  he  chooses  ;  this  is  one  of 
the  admirable  arrangements  for  breaking  up  such 
cliques  as  inevitably  form  in  a  college.  But  in 
point  of  fact  a  man  usually  ends  by  sitting  in  some 
certain  quarter  of  the  hall,  where  from  day  to  day 
he  finds  much  the  same  set  of  fellows.  Thus  all 
the  advantages  of  friendly  intercourse  are  attained 
without  any  real  exclusiveness.  This  may  seem  a 
small  point ;  but  an  hour  a  day  becomes  an  item 
in  four  years,  especially  if  it  is  the  hour  when  men 
are  most  disposed  to  be  companionable. 

The  English  College  hall  is  a  miniature  of 
Memorial  Hall  at  Harvard,  of  which  it  is  the  pro- 
totype. It  has  the  same  sombrely  beautiful  roof, 
the  same  richness  of  stained  glass.  It  has  also  the 
same  memorable  and  impressive  canvases,  though 
the  worthies  they  portray  are  likely  to  be  the 
21 


AN  AMERICAN  AT   OXFORD 

princes  and  prelates  of  Holbein  instead  of  the 
soldiers,  merchants,  and  divines  of  Copley  and 
Gilbert  Stuart.  The  tables  are  of  antique  oak, 
with  the  shadow  of  centuries  in  its  grain,  and  the 
college  plate  bears  the  names  and  date  of  the 
Restoration.  To  an  American  the  mugs  he  drinks 
his  beer  from  seem  old  enough,  but  the  English- 
man finds  them  aggressively  new.  They  are  not, 
however,  without  endearing  associations,  for  the 
mugs  that  preceded  them  were  last  used  to  drink 
a  health  to  King  Charles,  and  were  then  stamped 
into  coin  to  buy  food  and  drink  for  his  soldiers. 
The  one  or  two  colleges  that,  for  Puritan  princi- 
ples or  thrift,  or  both,  refused  to  give  up  their  old 
plate,  are  not  overproud  of  showing  it. 

Across  the  end  of  the  hall  is  a  platform  for 
high  table,  at  which  the  dons  assemble  as  soon  as 
the  undergraduates  are  well  seated.  On  Sunday 
night  they  come  out  in  full  force,  and  from  the 
time  the  first  one  enters  until  the  last  is  seated, 
the  undergraduates  rattle  and  bang  the  tables, 
until  it  seems  as  if  the  glass  must  splinter.  When, 
as  often  happens,  a  distinguished  graduate  comes 
up,  —  the  Speaker  of  the  Commons  to  Balliol,  or 
the  Prime  Minister  to  Christ  Church,  —  the  en- 
thusiasm has  usually  to  be  stopped  by  a  gesture 
from  the  master  or  the  dean. 
22 


THE  HALL  STAIRCASE,  CHRIST  CHURCH 


DINNER  IN  HALL 

The  dons  at  high  table,  like  the  British  peers, 
mingle  judicial  with  legislative  functions.  All 
disputes  about  sconces  are  referred  to  them,  and 
their  decrees  are  absolute.  A  sconce  is  a  penalty 
for  a  breach  of  good  manners  at  table,  and  is  an 
institution  that  can  be  traced  far  back  into  the 
Middle  Ages.  The  offenses  that  are  sconciblc 
may  be  summarized  as  punning,  swearing,  talking 
shop,  and  coming  to  hall  after  high  table  is  in 
session.  Take,  for  instance,  the  case  of  a  certain 
oarsman  who  found  the  dinner  forms  rather  too 
rigid  after  his  first  day  on  sliding  seats.  By  way 
of  comforting  himself,  he  remarked  that  the  Lord 
giveth  and  the  Lord  taketh  away.  Who  is  to 
decide  whether  he  is  guilty  of  profanity  ?  The 
master,  of  course,  and  his  assembled  court  of  dons. 
The  remark  and  the  attendant  circumstances  are 
written  on  the  back  of  an  order-slip  by  the  senior 
scholar  present,  and  a  scout  is  dispatched  with  it. 
Imagine,  then,  the  master  presenting  this  question 
to  the  dons  :  Is  it  profanity  to  refer  by  means  of  a 
quotation  from  Scripture  to  the  cuticle  one  loses 
in  a  college  boat  ?  Suppose  the  dons  decree  that 
it  is.  The  culprit  has  the  alternative  of  paying 
a  shilling  to  the  college  library,  or  ordering  a  tun 
of  bitter  beer.  If  he  decides  for  beer,  a  second 
alternative  confronts  him  :  he  may  drink  it  down 
23 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

in  one  uninterrupted  draft,  or  he  may  kiss  the  cup 
and  send  it  circling  the  table.  If  he  tries  to  floor 
the  sconce  and  fails,  he  has  to  order  more  beer 
for  the  table;  but  if  he  succeeds,  the  man  who 
sconced  him  has  to  pay  the  shot  and  order  a  sec- 
ond tun  for  the  table.  I  never  knew  but  one  man 
to  down  a  sconce.  He  did  it  between  soup  and 
fish,  and  for  the  rest  of  the  evening  was  as  drunk 
as  ever  was  the  Restoration  lord  who  presented 
the  silver  tankard  to  the  college. 

After  hall  the  dons  go  to  the  senior  common-room 
for  the  sweet  and  port.  At  Trinity  they  have  one 
room  for  the  sweet  and  another  for  port.  The  stu- 
dents, meanwhile,  in  certain  of  the  colleges,  may 
go  for  dessert  to  the  college  store ;  that  is  to  say,  to 
a  room  beneath  the  hall,  where  the  fancy  groceries 
of  the  college  stock  are  displayed  for  sale.  There 
are  oranges  from  Florida  and  Tangiers,  dainty 
maiden  blush  apples  from  New  England,  figs  and 
dates  from  the  Levant,  prunes  and  prunelles  from 
Italy,  candied  apricots  from  France,  and  the  superb 
English  hothouse  grapes,  more  luscious  than  Si- 
lenus  ever  crushed  against  his  palate.  There  are 
sweets,  cigarettes,  and  cigars.  All  are  spread 
upon  the  tables  like  a  Venetian  painting  of  abun- 
dance ;  but  at  either  end  of  the  room  stand  two 
Oxford  scouts,  with  account-books  in  their  hands. 
24 


DINNER   IN   HALL 

A  fellow  takes  a  Tangerine  and,  with  a  tap-room 
gesture,  tilts  to  the  scout  as  if  to  say,  "  Here 's 
looking  toward  you,  landlord ; "  or,  "  I  drink  to 
your  bonny  blue  eyes."  But  he  is  not  confronted 
by  a  publican  or  barmaid  ;  only  a  grave  underling 
of  the  college  bursar,  who  silently  records  "  Brown, 
orange,  2d.,"  and  looks  up  to  catch  the  next  item. 
Two  other  fellows  are  flipping  for  cigars,  and 
the  second  scout  is  gravely  watching  their  faces  to 
see  which  way  the  coin  has  fallen,  recording  the 
outcome  without  a  sign.  Some  one  asks,  "  How 
much  are  chocolate  creams,  Higgins  ?  "  "  .Three 
ha'pence  for  four,  sir,"  is  the  answer,  and  the 
student  urges  three  neighbors  to  share  his  penny- 
'orth.     The  scout  records,  "  Jones,  c.  c.  1  Jd." 

The  minuteness  of  this  bookkeeping  is  charac- 
teristic. The  weekly  battels  (bills)  always  bear  a 
charge  of  twopence  for  "  salt,  etc. ;  "  and  once, 
when  I  had  not  ordered  anything  during  an  entire 
day,  there  was  an  unspecified  charge  of  a  penny  in 
the  breakfast  column.  I  asked  the  butler  what 
it  meant.  He  looked  at  me  horrified.  "Why, 
sir,  that  is  to  keep  your  name  on  the  books."  No 
penny,  I  suppose,  ever  filled  an  office  of  greater 
responsibility,  and  I  still  can  shudder  at  so  narrow 
an  escape'.  I  asked  if  such  elaborate  bookkeeping 
was  not  very  expensive.  In  America,  I  said,  we 
25 


7< 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFOED 

should  lump  the  charges  and  devote  the  saving 
to  hiring  a  better  chef.  He  explained  that  it  had 
always  been  so  managed ;  that  the  chef  was  thought 
very  good,  sir ;  and  that  by  itemizing  charges  the 
young  gentlemen  who  wished  were  enabled  to  live 
more  cheaply.  Obviously,  when  it  costs  a  penny 
merely  to  keep  your  name  on  the  books,  there  is 
need  to  economize. 

After  a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  the  store  the  fellows 
drop  off  by  twos  and  threes  to  read,  or  to  take 
coffee  in  some  one's  room.  With  the  coffee  a  glass 
of  port  is  usually  taken.  Almost  all  the  fellows 
have  spirits  and  wines,  which  are  sold  by  the  col- 
lege as  freely  as  any  other  commodity.  If  a  man 
wishes  a  cup  served  in  his  room,  he  has  only  to  say 
so  to  his  scout.  If  one  waits  long  enough  in  the 
store,  he  is  almost  certain  to  be  asked  to  coffee  and 
wine.  The  would-be  host  circulates  the  room  tap- 
ping the  elect  on  the  shoulder  and  speaking  a  quiet 
word,  as  they  select  Bones  men  at  Yale.  If  half  a 
dozen  men  are  left  in  the  store  uninvited,  one  of 
them  is  apt  to  rise  to  the  occasion  and  invite  the 
lot.  It  scarcely  matters  how  unpopular  a  fellow 
may  be.  The  willingness  to  loaf  is  the  touch  of 
nature  that  makes  all  men  kin.  « 

After  coffee  more  men  fall  off  to  their  books  ; 
but  the  faithful  are  likely  to  spend  the  evening 
26 


DINNER  IN  HALL 

talking  or  playing  cards  —  bridge,  loo,  napp,  and 
whist,  with  the  German  importation  of  skat  and 
the  American  importation  of  poker.  In  one  col- 
lege I  knew,  there  was  a  nomadic  roulette  wheel 
that  wandered  from  room  to  room  pursued  by  the 
shadow  of  the  dean,  but  seldom  failed  of  an  even- 
ing to  gather  its  flock  about  it. 


27 


V 

EVENING 

IN  the  evening,  when  the  season  permits,  the 
fellows  sit  out  of  doors  after  dinner,  smoking 
and  playing  bowls.  There  is  no  place  in  which 
the  spring  comes  more  sweetly  than  in  an  Oxford 
garden.  The  high  walls  are  at  once  a  trap  for  the 
first  warm  rays  of  the  sun  and  a  barrier  against 
the  winds  of  March.  The  daffodils  and  crocuses 
spring  up  with  joy  as  the  gardener  bids ;  and  the 
apple  and  cherry  trees  coddle  against  the  warm 
north  walls,  spreading  out  their  early  buds  grate- 
fully to  the  mild  English  sun.  For  long,  quiet 
hours  after  dinner  they  flaunt  their  beauty  to  the 
fellows  smoking,  and  breathe  their  sweetness  to 
the  fellows  playing  bowls.  "  No  man,"  exclaims 
the  American  visitor,  "  could  live  four  years  in 
these  gardens  of  delight  and  not  be  made  gentler 
and  nobler  !  "  Perhaps !  though  not  altogether  in 
the  way  the  visitor  imagines.  When  the  flush  of 
summer  is  on,  the  loiterers  loll  on  the  lawn  full 
length  ;  and  as  they  watch  the  insects  crawl  among 
the  grass  they  make  bets  on  them,  just  as  the 
28 


EVENING 

gravest  and  most  reverend  seniors  have  been  known 
to  do  in  America. 

In  the  windows  overlooking  the  quadrangle  are 
boxes  of  brilliant  flowers,  above  which  the  smoke 
of  a  pipe  comes  curling  out.  At  Harvard  some  fel- 
lows have  geraniums  in  their  windows,  but  only 
the  very  rich ;  and  when  they  began  the  custom 
an  ancient  graduate  wrote  one  of  those  communi- 
cations to  the  "  Crimson,"  saying  that  if  men  put 
unmanly  boxes  of  flowers  in  the  window,  how  can 
they  expect  to  beat  Yale  ?  Flower  boxes,  no  sand. 
At  Oxford  they  manage  things  so  that  anybody 
may  have  flower  boxes  ;  and  their  associations  are 
by  no  means  unmanly.  This  is  the  way  they  do 
it.  In  the  early  summer  a  gardener's  wagon  from 
the  country  draws  up  by  the  college  gate,  and  the 
driver  cries,  "  Flowers  !  Flowers  for  a  pair  of  old 
bags,  sir."  Bags  is  of  course  the  fitting  term  for 
English  trousers  —  which  don't  fit ;  and  I  should 
like  to  inform  that  ancient  graduate  that  the  win- 
dow boxes  of  Oxford  suggest  the  very  badge  of 
manhood. 

As  long  as  the  English  twilight  lingers,  the  men 
will  sit  and  talk  and  sing  to  the  mandolin;  and 
I  have  heard  of  fellows  sitting  and  talking  all 
night,  not  turning  in  until  the  porter  appeared  to 
take  their  names  at  roll-call.  On  the  eve  of  May 
29 


A 


AN  AMERICAN   AT   OXFORD 

day  it  is  quite  the  custom  to  sit  out,  for  at  dawn 
one  may  go  to  see  the  pretty  ceremony  of  heralding 
the  May  on  Magdalen  Tower.  The  Magdalen  choir 
boys  —  the  sweetest  songsters  in  all  Oxford  — 
mount  to  the  top  of  that  most  beautiful  of  Gothic 
towers,  and,  standing  among  the  pinnacles,  —  pin- 
nacles afire  with  the  spirituality  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
that  warms  all  the  senses  with  purity  and  beauty, 
—  those  boys,  I  say,  on  that  tower  and  among  those 
pinnacles,  open  their  mouths  and  sing  a  Latin  song 
to  greet  the  May.  Meantime,  the  fellows  who 
have  come  out  to  listen  in  the  street  below  make 
catcalls  and  blow  fish  horns.  The  song  above  is 
the  survival  of  a  Romish,  perhaps  a  Druidical, 
custom  ;  the  racket  below  is  the  survival  of  a  Puri- 
tan protest.  That  is  Oxford  in  symbol !  Its  dig- 
nity and  mellowness  are  not  so  much  a  matter  of 
flowering  gardens  and  crumbling  walls  as  of  the 
traditions  of  the  centuries  in  which  the  whole  life 
of  the  place  has  deep  sources ;  and  the  noblest  of 
its  institutions  are  fringed  with  survivals  that  run 
riot  in  the  grotesque. 

If  a  man  intends  to  spend  the  evening  out  of 
college,  he  has  to  make  a  dash  before  nine  o'clock ; 
for  love  or  for  money  the  porter  may  not  let  an 
inmate  out  after  nine.  One  man  I  knew  was  able 
to  escape  by  guile.  He  had  a  brother  in  Trinity 
30 


MAGDALEN  TOWER  FROM  THE  BRIDGE 


EVENING 

whom  lie  very  much  resembled,  and  whenever  he 
wanted  to  go  out,  he  would  tilt  his  mortarboard 
forward,  wrap  his  gown  high  about  his  neck,  as  it 
is  usually  worn  of  an  evening,  and  bidding  the 
porter  a  polite  good-night,  say,  "  Charge  me  to  my 
brother,  Hancock,  if  you  please."  The  charge  is 
the  inconsiderable  sum  of  one  penny,  and  is  the 
penalty  of  having  a  late  guest.  Having  profited 
by  my  experience  with  the  similar  charge  for  keep- 
ing my  name  on  the  college  books,  I  never  asked 
its  why  and  wherefore.  Both  are  no  doubt  sur- 
vivals of  some  mediaeval  custom,  the  authority  of 
which  no  college  employee  —  or  don,  for  the  mat- 
ter of  that  —  would  question.  Such  matters  inter- 
est the  Oxford  man  quite  as  little  as  the  question 
how  he  comes  by  a  tonsil  or  a  vermiform  appendix. 
They  are  there,  and  he  makes  the  best  of  them. 

If  a  fellow  leaves  college  for  an  evening,  it  is  for 
a  foregathering  at  some  other  college,  or  to  go  to 
the  theatre.  As  a  rule  he  wears  a  cloth  cap.  A 
"  billycock  "  or  "  bowler,"  as  the  pot  hat  is  called, 
is  as  thoroughly  frowned  on  now  in  English  col- 
leges as  it  was  with  us  a  dozen  years  ago.  As  for 
the  mortarboard  and  gown,  undergraduate  opinion 
rather  requires  that  they  be  left  behind.  This  is 
largely,  no  doubt,  because  they  are  required  by  law 
to  be  worn.  So  far  as  the  undergraduates  are  con- 
31 


x 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

cerned,  every  operative  statute  of  the  university, 
with  the  exception  of  those  relating  to  matricu- 
lation and  graduation,  refers  to  conduct  in  the 
streets  after  nightfall,  and  almost  without  excep- 
tion they  are  honored  in  the  breach.  This  is  out 
of  disregard  for  the  Vice-Chan cellor  of  the  uni- 
versity, who  is  familiarly  called  the  Vice,  because 
he  serves  as  a  warning  to  others  for  the  practice 
of  virtue.  The  Vice  makes  his  power  felt  in 
characteristically  dark  and  tortuous  ways.  His 
factors  are  two  proctors,  college  dons  in  daytime, 
but  skulkers  after  nightfall,  each  of  whom  has  his 
bulldogs,  that  is,  scouts  employed  literally  to  spy 
upon  the  students.  If  these  catch  you  without 
cap  or  gown,  they  cause  you  to  be  proctorized  or 
"progged,"  as  it  is  called,  which  involves  a  mat- 
ter of  five  shillings  or  so.  As  a  rule  there  is  little 
danger  of  progging,  but  my  first  term  fell  in  evil 
days.  For  some  reason  or  other  the  chest  of  the 
university  showed  a  deficit  of  sundry  pounds,  shil- 
lings, and  pence  ;  and  as  it  had  long  ceased  to  need 
or  receive  regular  bequests,  —  the  finance  of  the 
institution  being  in  the  hands  of  the  colleges, — 
a  crisis  was  at  hand.  A  more  serious  problem  had 
doubtless  never  arisen  since  the  great  question  was 
solved  of  keeping  undergraduates'  names  on  the 
books.  The  expedient  of  the  Vice-Chancellor  was 
32 


EVENING 

to  summon  the  proctors,  and  bid  them  charge  their 
bulldogs  to  prog  all  freshmen  caught  at  night  with- 
out cap  and  gown.  The  deficit  in  the  university 
chest  was  made  up  at  five  shillings  a  head. 

One  of  the  Vice-Chancellor's  rules  is  that  no 
undergraduate  shall  enter  an  Oxford  u  pub."  Now 
the  only  restaurant  in  town,  Queen's,  is  run  in 
conjunction  with  a  pub,  and  was  once  the  favorite 
resort  of  all  who  were  bent  on  breaking  the  mo- 
notony of  an  English  Sunday.  The  Vice-Chan- 
cellor resolved  to  destroy  this  den  of  Sabbath- 
breaking,  and  the  undergraduates  resolved  no  less 
firmly  to  defend  their  stronghold.  The  result 
was  a  hand-to-hand  fight  with  the  bulldogs,  which 
ended  so  triumphantly  for  the  undergraduates  that 
a  dozen  or  more  of  them  were  sent  down.  In  the 
articles  of  the  peace  that  followed,  it  was  stipu- 
lated, I  was  told,  that  so  long  as  the  restaurant 
was  closed  Sunday  afternoons  and  nights,  it  should 
never  suffer  from  the  visit  of  proctor  or  bulldog. 
As  a  result,  Queen's  is  a  great  scene  of  under- 
graduate foregatherings.  The  dinners  are  good 
enough  and  reasonably  cheap  ;  and  as  most  excel- 
lent champagne  is  to  be  had  at  twelve  shillings  the 
bottle,  the  diners  are  not  unlikely  to  get  back  to 
college  a  trifle  buffy,  in  the  Oxford  phrase. 

By  an  interesting  survival  of  mediaeval  custom, 
33 


AN  AMERICAN   AT   OXFORD 

the  Vice-Chancellor  has  supreme  power  over  the 
morals  of  the  town,  and  any  citizen  who  trans- 
gresses his  laws  is  visited  with  summary  punish- 
ment. For  a  tradesman  or  publican  to  assist  in 
breaking  university  rules  means  outlawry  and  ruin, 
and  for  certain  offenses  a  citizen  may  be  punished 
by  imprisonment.  Over  the  Oxford  theatre  the 
Vice-Chancellor's  power  is  absolute.  In  my  time 
he  was  much  more  solicitous  that  the  undergradu- 
ate be  kept  from  knowledge  of  the  omnipresent 
woman  with  a  past  than  that  dramatic  art  should 
flourish,  and  forbade  the  town  to  more  than  one 
excellent  play  of  the  modern  school  of  comedy  that 
had  been  seen  and  discussed  in  London  by  the 
younger  sisters  of  the  undergraduates.  The  woman 
with  a  present  is  virtually  absent. 

Time  was  when  no  Oxford  play  was  quite  suc- 
cessful unless  the  undergraduates  assisted  at  its 
first  night,  though  in  a  way  very  different  from 
that  which  the  term  denotes  in  France.  The 
assistance  was  of  the  kind  so  generously  rendered 
in  New  York  and  Boston  on  the  evening  of  an 
athletic  contest.  Even  to-day,  just  for  tradition's 
sake,  the  undergraduates  sometimes  make  a  row. 
A  lot  of  B.  N.  C.  men,  as  the  clanny  sons  of 
Brazenose  College  call  themselves,  may  insist  that 
an  opera  stop  while  the  troupe  listen  to  one  of 
34 


EVENING 

their  own  excellent  vocal  performances ;  and  I 
once  saw  a  great  sprinter,  not  unknown  to  Yale 
men,  rise  from  his  seat,  face  the  audience,  and, 
pointing  with  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder  at  the  sou- 
brette,  announce  impressively,  "  Do  you  know,  I 
rather  like  that  girl !  "  The  show  is  usually  over 
just  before  eleven,  and  then  occurs  an  amusing,  if 
unseemly,  scramble  to  get  back  to  college  before 
the  hour  strikes.  A  man  who  stays  out  after  ten 
is  fined  threepence  ;  after  eleven  the  fine  is  six- 
pence. When  all  is  said,  why  should  n't  one  sprint 
for  threepence  ? 

If  you  stay  out  of  college  after  midnight,  the 
dean  makes  a  star  chamber  offense  of  it,  fines  you 
a  "  quid  "  or  two,  and  like  as  not  sends  you  down. 
This  sounds  a  trifle  worse  than  it  is ;  for  if  you 
must  be  away,  your  absence  can  usually  be  arranged 
for.  If  you  find  yourself  in  the  streets  after 
twelve,  you  may  rap  on  some  friend's  bedroom 
window  and  tell  him  of  your  plight  through  the 
iron  grating.  He  will  then  spend  the  first  half 
of  the  night  in  your  bed  and  wash  his  hands  in 
your  bowl.  With  such  evidence  as  this  to  support 
him,  the  scout  is  not  apt,  if  sufficiently  retained, 
to  report  a  suspected  absence.  I  have  even  known 
fellows  to  make  their  arrangements  in  advance 
and  spend  the  night  in  town ;  but  the  ruse  has  its 


AN  AMERICAN  AT   OXFORD 

dangers,  and  the  penalty  is  to  be  sent  down  for 
good  and  all. 

It  is  owing  to  such  regulations  as  these  that  life 
in  the  English  college  has  the  name  of  being  clois- 
tral. Just  how  cloistral  it  is  in  spirit  no  one 
can  know  who  has  not  taken  part  in  a  rag  in  tho 
quad ;  and  this  is  impossible  to  an  outsider,  for  at 
midnight  all  visitors  are  required  to  leave,  under  a 
heavy  penalty  to  their  host. 


36 


VI 

THE  MIND  OF  THE  COLLEGE 

ANY  jubilation  is  a  rag;  but  the  most  inter- 
.Xjl.  esting  kind,  though  perhaps  the  least  fre- 
quent, takes  the  direction  of  what  we  call  hazing. 
It  is  seldom,  however,  as  hazing  has  come  to  be 
with  us,  a  wanton  outbreak.  It  is  a  deliberate 
expression  of  public  opinion,  and  is  carried  on 
sedately  by  the  leading  men  of  the  college.  The 
more  I  saw  of  it,  the  more  deeply  I  came  to  respect 
it  as  an  institution. 

In  its  simplest  if  rarest  form  it  merely  consists 
in  smashing  up  a  man's  room.  The  only  affair  of 
this  kind  which  I  saw  took  place  in  the  owner's 
absence  ;  and  when  I  animadverted  on  the  fact,  I 
was  assured  that  it  would  have  turned  out  much 
worse  for  the  man's  feelings  if  he  had  been  pre- 
sent. He  was  a  strapping  big  Rugbeian,  who  had 
come  up  with  a  "reputter,"  or  reputation,  as  a 
football  player,  and  had  insisted  on  trying  first  off 
for  the  'varsity  fifteen.  He  had  promptly  been 
given  the  hoof  for  being  slow  and  lazy,  and  when 
he  condescended  to  try  for  the  college  fifteen,  his 
37 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFOED 

services  were  speedily  dispensed  with  for  the  same 
reason.  As  he  still  carried  his  head  high,it  was 
necessary  to  bring  his  shortcomings  home  fc>  him 
in  an  unmistakable  manner.  Brutal  as  I  thought 
the  proceeding,  and  shameful  to  grown  men,  it 
did  him  good.  He  became  a  hard-working  and 
lowly  minded  athlete,  and  prospered.  I  am  not 
prepared  to  say  that  the  effect  in  this  particular 
instance  did  not  justify  the  means. 

A  series  of  judicial  raggings  was  much  more  edi- 
fying. Having  pulled  their  culprit  out  of  bed 
after  midnight,  the  upper  classmen  set  him  upon 
his  window-seat  in  pyjamas,  and  with  great  solem- 
nity appointed  a  judge,  a  counsel  for  the  prose- 
cution, and  a  counsel  for  the  defense.  Of  the 
charges  against  him  only  one  or  two  struck  home, 
and  even  these  were  so  mingled  with  the  nonsense 
of  the  proceedings  that  their  sting  was  more  or 
less  blunted.  The  man  had  been  given  over  to  his 
books  to  the  neglect  of  his  personal  appearance.  It 
was  charged  that  in  pretending  to  know  his  sub- 
junctives he  was  ministering  to  the  vanity  of  the 
dean,  who  had  written  a  Latin  grammar,  and  that 
by  displaying  familiarity  with  Hegel  he  was  boot- 
licking the  master,  who  was  a  recently  imported 
Scotch  philosopher.  Then  the  vital  question  was 
raised  as  to  the  culprit's  personal  habits.  Heaven 
38 


THE  MIND  OF  THE   COLLEGE 

defend  him  now  from  his  legal  defender !  It  was 
urgecL  that^  as  he  was  a  student  of  Literae  Huma- 
nioresl  he  might  be  excused  from  an  acquaintance 
with  the  scientific  commodity  known  as  H20  :  one 
might  ignore  anything,  in  fact,  if  only  one  were 
interested  in  Literae  Humaniores.  By  such  means 
as  this  the  face  of  the  college  is  kept  bright  and 
shining. 

Here  is  a  round  robin,  addressed  to  the  best  of 
fellows,  a  member  of  the  'varsity  shooting  team 
and  golf  team.  He  was  a  Scotchman  by  birth  and 
by  profession,  and  even  his  schoolboy  days  at  Eton 
had  not  divested  him  of  a  Highland  gait. 

"  Whereas,  Thomas  Rankeillor,  Gent,  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Oxford,  has,  by  means  of  his  large  feet, 
uncouth  gait,  and  his  unwieldy  brogues,  wan- 
tonly and  with  malice  destroyed,  mutilated,  and 
otherwise  injured  the  putting  greens,  tees,  and  golf 
course  generally,  the  property  of  the  Oxford  Uni- 
versity Golf  Club,  whereof  he  is  a  member,  and 

"  Whereas,  2,  The  said  Thomas  Rankeillor,  etc., 
has  by  these  large  feet,  uncouth  gait,  and  unwieldy 
brogues  aforesaid,  raised  embankments,  groins,  and 
other  bunkers,  hazards,  and  impediments,  formed 
unnecessary  roads,  farm  roads,  bridle  paths,  and 
other  roads,  on  the  putting  greens,  tees,  and  golf 
course  generally,  aforesaid ;  excavated  sundry  and 
39 


AN  AMEEICAN  AT  OXFORD 

diverse  reservoirs,  tanks,  ponds,  conduits,  sewers, 
channels,  and  other  runnels,  needlessly  irrigating 
the  putting  greens,  tees,  and  golf  course  generally 
aforesaid,  and 

"  Whereas,  3,  The  said  Thomas  Rankeillor,  etc., 
has  by  those  large  feet,  uncouth  gait,  and  unwieldy 
brogues  aforesaid,  caused  landslips,  thus  demolish- 
ing all  natural  hills,  bunkers,  and  other  excres- 
cences, and  all  artificial  hillocks,  mounds,  hedges, 
and  other  hazards, 

"  Hereby  we,  the  circumsigned,  do  request,  peti- 
tion, and  otherwise  entreat  the  aforesaid 

"  Thomas  Rankeillor,  Gent,  of  the  Univer- 
sity of  Oxford,  to  alter,  transform,  and  otherwise 
modify  his  uncouth  gait,  carriage,  and  general  mode 
of  progression ;  to  buy,  purchase,  or  otherwise  ac- 
quire boots,  shoes,  and  all  other  understandings  of 
reasonable  size,  weight,  and  material ;  and  finally 
that  he  do  cease  from  this  time  forward  to  wear, 
use,  or  in  any  way  carry  the  aforesaid  brogues. 

"Given  forth  this  the  17th  day  of  March, 
1896." 

At  times  rougher  means  are  employed.  At 
Brazenose  there  happened  to  be  two  men  by  the 
same  name,  let  us  say,  of  Gaylor,  one  of  whom  had 
made  himself  agreeable  to  the  college,  while  the 
other  had  decidedly  not.  One  midnight  a  party 
40 


THE   MIND  OF  THE   COLLEGE 

of  roisterers  hauled  the  unpopular  Gaylor  out  of 
his  study,  pulled  off  his  bags,  and  dragged  him  by 
the  heels  a  lap  or  two  about  the  quad.  This  form 
of  discipline  has  since  been  practiced  in  other  col- 
leges, and  is  called  debagging.  The  popular  Gay- 
lor was  ever  afterward  distinguished  by  the  name 
of  Asher,  because,  according  to  the  Book  of  Judges, 
Asher  abode  in  his  breaches. 

Not  dissimilar  correctives  may  be  employed,  in 
extreme  need,  against  those  mightiest  in  authority. 
A  favorite  device  is  to  screw  the  oak  of  an  objec- 
tionable don.  Mr.  Andrew  Lang,  himself  for- 
merly a  don  at  Merton,  reports  a  conversation  — 
can  it  have  been  a  personal  experience  ?  —  between 
a  don  standing  inside  a  newly  screwed  oak  and  his 
scout,  who  was  tendering  sympathy  from  the  stair- 
case. "  What  am  I  to  do  ?  "  cried  the  don.  "  Mr. 
Muff,  sir,"  suggested  the  scout,  "  when  'e  's  screwed 
up,  sir,  'e  sends  for  the  blacksmith."  At  Christ 
Church,  "The  House,"  as  it  is  familiarly  called, 
much  more  direct  and  personal  methods  have  been 
employed.  Not  many  years  ago  a  censor  (whose 
office  is  that  of  the  dean  at  other  colleges)  stirred 
up  unusual  ill-will  among  his  wards.  They  pulled 
him  from  his  bed,  dragged  him  into  Tom  Quad,  — 
Wolsey's  Quad,  —  and  threw  him  bodily  among  the 
venerable  carp  of  the  Mercury  Pond.  Then  they 
41 


AN   AMERICAN  AT   OXFORD 

gathered  about  in  a  circle,  and,  when  he  raised  his 
head  above  the  surface,  thrust  him  under  with 
their  walking-sticks.  Something  like  forty  of  them 
were  sent  down  for  this,  and  the  censor  went  trav- 
eling for  his  health. 

The  memory  of  this  episode  was  still  green  when 
the  Duke  of  Marlborough  gave  a  coming  of  age 
ball  at  Blenheim  Palace,  and  invited  over  literally 
hundreds  of  his  Oxford  friends.  In  other  colleges 
the  undergraduates  were  permitted  to  leave  Oxford 
for  the  night,  but  at  the  House  the  censor  stipu- 
lated that  they  be  within  the  gates,  as  usual,  by 
midnight.  This  would  have  meant  a  break-neck 
drive  of  eight  miles  after  about  fifteen  minutes 
at  the  ball,  and  was  far  more  exasperating  to 
the  young  Britons  than  a  straightforward  refusal. 
That  evening  the  dons  sported  their  oaks,  and 
carefully  bolted  themselves  within.  The  night 
passed  in  so  deep  a  silence  that,  for  all  they 
knew,  the  ghost  of  Wolsey  might  have  been 
stalking  in  his  cherished  quadrangle,  the  glory  of 
building  which  the  Eighth  Henry  so  unfeelingly 
appropriated.  As  morning  dawned,  the  common- 
room  gossips  will  tell  you,  the  dons  crawled  fur- 
tively out  of  bed,  and  shot  their  bolts  to  find 
whether  they  had  need  of  the  blacksmith.  Not  a 
screw  had  been  driven.  The  morning  showed  why 
42 


THE   MIND   OF  THE   COLLEGE 

On  the  stately  walls  of  Tom  Quad  was  painted 
"  Damn  the  Dons!  "  and  again  in  capital  letters, 
"  Damn  the  Dons ! "  and  a  third  time,  in  larger 
capitals,  "  Damn  the  Dons !  "  There  were  other 
inscriptions,  less  fit  to  relate  ;  and  stretching  alon^ 
one  whole  side  of  the  quad,  in  huge  characters,  the 
finely  antithetical  sentence :  "  God  bless  the  Duke 
of  Marlborough."  The  doors  of  the  dean's  resi- 
dence were  smeared  with  red  paint ;  and  against  a 
marble  statue  of  the  late  Dean  Liddell,  the  Greek 
lexicographer,  a  bottle  of  green  ink  had  been 
smashed.  Two  hundred  workmen,  summoned 
from  a  neighboring  building,  labored  two  days 
with  rice-root  brushes  and  fuller's  earth,  but  with 
so  little  effect  that  certain  of  the  stones  had  to  be 
replaced  in  the  walls,  and  endless  scrubbings 
failed  to  overcome  the  affinity  between  the  ink  and 
the  literary  Liddell.  The  marble  statue  has  been 
replaced  by  one  of  plaster. 

Compared  with  the  usual  Oxford  rag,  the  up- 
setting of  Professor  Silliman's  statue  in  the  Yale 
campus  by  means  of  a  lasso  dwindles  into  insig- 
nificance, and  the  painting  of  'varsity  stockings  on 
John  Harvard,  which  so  scandalized  the  under- 
graduates that  they  repaired  the  damage  by  volun- 
tary subscriptions,  might  be  regarded  as  an  act  of 
filial  piety. 

43 


AN  AMEKICAN  AT  OXFORD 

The  more  I  learned  of  Oxford  motives,  the  less 
anxious  I  was  to  censure  the  system  of  ragging. 
In  an  article  I  wrote  after  only  a  few  months'  stay, 
I  spoke  of  it  as  boyish  and  undignified  ;  and  most 
Americans,  I  feel  sure,  would  likewise  hold  up  the 
hand  of  public  horror.  Yet  I  cannot  be  wholly 
thankful  that  we  are  not  as  they.  To  the  under- 
graduates, ragging  is  a  survival  of  the  excellently 
efficient  system  of  discipline  in  the  public  schools, 
where  the  older  boys  have  charge  of  the  manners 
and  morals  of  the  younger ;  and  historically,  like 
public  school  discipline,  it  is  an  inheritance  from 
the  prehistoric  past.  In  the  Middle  Ages  it  was 
apparently  the  custom  to  hold  the  victim's  nose 
literally  to  the  grindstone.  In  the  schools,  to  be 
sure,  the  Sixth  Form  take  their  duties  with  great 
sobriety  of  conscience  —  which  is  not  altogether 
the  case  in  college ;  but  the  difference  of  spirit  is 
perhaps  justifiable.  For  a  properly  authorized 
committee  of  big  schoolboys  to  chastise  a  young- 
ster who  has  transgressed  is  not  unnatural,  and  the 
system  that  provides  for  it  has  proved  successful 
for  five  centuries ;  but  for  men  to  adopt  the  same 
attitude  towards  a  fellow  only  a  year  or  two  their 
junior  would  be  preposterous.  Horseplay  is  a  ne- 
cessary part  of  the  game.  The  end  in  both  is  the 
same  :  it  is  to  bring  each  individual  under  the  in- 
44 


THE  MIND   OF  THE   COLLEGE 

fluence  of  the  traditions  and  standards  of  the  insti- 
tution of  which  he  has  elected  to  be  a  part.  Just 
as  the  system  of  breakfasting  freshmen  is  by  no 
means  as  altruistic  as  it  at  first  appears,  the  prac- 
tice of  ragging  is  by  no  means  as  brutal.  It  is  as 
if  the  college  said :  We  have  admitted  you  and 
welcomed  you,  opening  up  the  way  to  every  avenue 
of  enjoyment  and  profit,  and  it  is  for  our  common 
good,  sir,  that  you  be  told  of  your  shortcomings. 
The  most  diligent  and  distinguished  scholar  is  not 
unlikely  to  be  most  in  need  of  a  pointed  lesson  in 
personal  decorum  ;  and  the  man  who  was  not  Asher 
may  be  thankful  all  his  life  for  the  bad  quarter  of 
an  hour  that  taught  him  the  difference  between 
those  who  do  and  those  who  do  not  abide  in  their 
breaches. 

With  regard  to  the  dons,  a  similar  case  might 
be  made.  Any  one  who  assumes  an  authority  over 
grown  men  that  is  so  nearly  absolute  should  be 
held  to  strict  honesty  and  justice  of  dealing.  So 
far  as  I  could  learn,  the  Christ  Church  dons  who 
were  so  severely  dealt  with  were  both  unjust  and 
insincere,  and  I  came  to  sympathize  in  some  mea- 
sure with  the  undergraduates  at  the  House,  who 
were  half  humorously  inclined  to  regard  the  forty 
outcasts  as  martyrs. 

This  is  not  to  argue  that  all  American  hazing 
45 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

is  justifiable.  In  many  cases,  especially  of  late 
years,  it  has  been  as  silly  and  brutal  as  the  most 
puritanical  moralists  have  declared.  To  steal  the 
Louisburg  Cross  from  above  the  door  of  the  Har- 
vard Library  was  vandalism  if  you  wish  —  it  was 
certainly  a  very  stupid  proceeding ;  and  to  cele- 
brate a  really  notable  athletic  victory  by  mutilat- 
ing the  pedestal  of  the  statue  of  John  Harvard 
was  not  only  stupid,  but  unworthy  of  a  true  sports- 
man. How  much  better  to  make  an  end  with 
painting  'varsity  stockings  on  the  dear  old  boy's 
bronze  legs,  and  leave  the  goody  to  wash  them  off 
next  day.  What  I  wish  to  point  out  is  that  where 
there  is  vigorous  public  spirit,  it  may  be  more  effi- 
ciently expressed  by  hazing  than  by  a  very  nor'- 
easter  of  Puritan  morality. 

A  tradition  of  the  late  master  of  Balliol,  Jow- 
ett,  the  great  humanist,  would  seem  to  show  that 
he  held  some  such  opinion.  It  was  his  custom  in 
his  declining  years  to  walk  after  breakfast  in  the 
garden  quad,  and  whenever  there  were  evidences 
of  a  rag,  even  to  the  extent  of  broken  windows,  he 
would  say  cheerily  to  his  Jidus  Achates,  "  Ah,  Har- 
die,  the  mind  of  the  college  is  still  vigorous ;  it  has 
been  expressing  itself."  The  best  possible  justifi- 
cation of  the  cloistral  restrictions  of  English  col- 
lege life  is  the  facility  with  which  the  mind  of  the 
46 


THE  MIND   OF  THE  COLLEGE 

college  expresses  itself.  It  is  by  no  means  fantas- 
tic to  hint  that  the  decline  of  well-considered  haz- 
ing in  American  colleges  has  come  step  by  step 
with  the  breaking  up  of  the  bonds  of  hospitality 
and  comradeship  that  used  to  make  them  well-or- 
ganized social  communities. 

I  have  not  come  to  this  philosophy  without  deep 
experience.  On  one  occasion  after  Hall,  I  was 
flown  with  such  insolence  against  college > restric- 
tions that  the  cheval  -  de  -frise  above  the  back 
gate  seemed  an  affront  to  a  freeborn  American. 
Though  the  porter's  gate  was  still  open,  it  was  im- 
peratively necessary  to  scale  that  roller  of  iron 
spikes.  I  was  no  sooner  astride  of  it  than  a  mob 
of  townspeople  gathered  without,  and  among  them 
a  palsied  beggar,  who  bellowed  out  tfiat  he  would 
hextricate  me  for  'arf  a  crown,  sir.  I  have  sel- 
dom been  in  a  less  gratifying  position ;  and  when 
I  had  clambered  back  into  college,  I  ruefully  re- 
called the  explanation  my  tutor  had  given  me  of 
the  iron  spikes  and  bottle  shards,  —  an  explanation 
that  at  the  time  had  shaken  my  sides  with  laughter 
at  British  absurdity.  My  tutor  had  said  that  if 
the  fellows  were  allowed  to  rag  each  other  in  the 
open  streets  and  smash  the  townspeople's  windows, 
the  matter  would  be  sure  to  get  into  the  papers 
and  set  the  uninitiated  parent  against  the  univer- 
47 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

sities.  In  effect,  the  iron  spikes  and  the  stumps 
of  bottles  are  admirable,  not  so  much  because  they 
keep  the  undergraduate  in,  as  because  they  keep 
the  public  out ;  and  since  the  public  includes  all 
people  who  wish  to  hextricate  you  for  'arf  a  crown, 
sir,  my  mind  was  in  a  way  to  be  reduced  to  that 
British  state  of  illogic  in  which  I  regarded  only 
the  effect. 

As  a  last  resort  I  carefully  sounded  the  under- 
graduates as  to  whether  they  would  find  use  for 
greater  liberty.  They  were  not  only  content  with 
their  lot,  but  would,  I  found,  resent  any  loosening 
of  the  restrictions.  To  give  them  the  liberty  of 
London  at  night  or  even  of  Oxford,  they  argued, 
would  tend  to  break  up  the  college  as  a  social 
organization  and  thus  to  weaken  it  athletically; 
for  at  Oxford  they  understand  what  we  sometimes 
do  not,  that  a  successful  cultivation  of  sports  goes 
hand  in  hand  with  good  comradeship  and  mutual 
loyalty. 

The  only  question  remaining  was  of  the  actual 
moral  results  of  the  semi-cloistral  life.  Such 
outbreaks  of  public  opinion  as  I  have  described 
are  at  the  worst  exceptional ;  they  are  the  last 
resort  of  outraged  patience.  The  affair  at  Christ 
Church  is  unexampled  in  modern  times.  Many  a 
man  of  the  better  sort  goes  through  his  four  years 
48 


THE  MIND   OF  THE   COLLEGE 

at  the  university  without  either  experiencing  or 
witnessing  undergraduate  violence.  As  for  drink- 
ing, in  spite  of  the  fact  that  wine  and  spirits  are 
sold  to  undergraduates  by  the  college  at  any  and 
all  times  and  in  any  and  all  quantities,  there 
seemed  to  be  less  excessive  indulgence  than,  for 
instance,  at  Harvard  or  at  Yale.  And  the  fact 
that  what  there  was  took  place  for  the  most  part 
within  the  college  walls  was  in  many  respects 
most  fortunate.  When  fellows  are  turned  loose 
for  their  jubilations  amid  the  vices  of  a  city,  as  is 
usually  the  case  with  us,  the  consequences  to  their 
general  morality  are  sometimes  the  most  hideous. 
In  an  English  college  the  men  to  whom  immoral- 
ity seems  inevitable  —  and  such  are  to  be  found  in 
all  communities  —  have  recourse  to  London.  But 
as  their  expeditions  take  place  in  daylight  and 
cold  blood,  and  are,  except  at  great  risk,  cut  short 
when  the  last  evening  train  leaves  Paddington 
shortly  after  dinner,  it  is  not  possible  to  carry 
them  off  with  that  dazzling  air  of  the  man  of  the 
world  that  in  America  lures  so  many  silly  fresh- 
men into  dissipations  for  which  th^p!Rlve  no  natu- 
ral inclination.  This  little  liberty  is  apparently 
of  great  value.  The  cloistral  vice,  which  seems 
inevitable  in  the  English  public  schools,  is  robbed 
49 


AN  AMEKICAN  AT  OXFOED 

of  any  shadow  of  palliation.  A  fellow  who  con- 
tinues it  is  thought  puerile,  if  nothing  worse. 
When  it  exists,  it  is  more  likely  to  be  the  result 
of  the  intimate  study  of  the  ancient  classics,  and 
is  then  even  more  looked  down  upon  by  the  robust 
Briton  as  effeminate  or  decadent.  The  subject, 
usually  difficult  or  impossible  to  investigate,  hap- 
pened to  be  on  the  surface  at  the  time  of  my  resi- 
dence because  of  the  sensational  trial  of  an  Ox- 
ford graduate  in  London.  I  was  satisfied  that  the 
general  body  of  undergraduates  was  quite  free  of 
contamination.  On  the  whole,  I  should  say  that 
the  restrictions  of  college  life  in  England  are  far 
less  dangerous  than  the  absolute  freedom  of  life 
in  an  American  college.  Under  our  system  a  few 
men  profit  greatly  ;  they  leave  college  experienced 
in  the  ways  of  the  world  and  at  the  same  time 
thoroughly  masters  of  themselves.  But  it  is  a 
strong  man  —  perhaps  a  blasphemous  one  —  that 
would  ask  to  be  led  into  temptation.  The  best 
system  of  college  residence,  I  take  it,  is  that  which 
develops  thoroughly  and  spontaneously  the  normal 
social  instincts,  and  at  the  same  time  leaves  men 
free  moral  agents.  In  a  rightly  constituted  fel- 
low, in  fact,  the  normal  social  life  constitutes  the 
only  real  freedom.  Those  frowning  college  walls, 
50 


THE  MIND  OF  THE  COLLEGE 

which  we  are  disposed  to  regard  as  instruments  of 
pedagogical  tyranny,  are  the  means  of  nourishing 
the  normal  social  life,  and  are  thus  in  effect  the 
bulwarks  of  a  freer  system  than  is  known  to 
American  universities. 


51 


vn 

CLUB  LIFE  IN  THE  COLLEGE 

AS  a  place  for  the  general  purposes  of  resi- 
JLJl.  dence  —  eating  and  sleeping,  work  and  play 
—  the  English  college  is  clearly  quite  as  well  or- 
ganized and  equipped  as  any  of  the  societies,  clubs, 
or  fraternities  of  an  American  university.  And 
whereas  these  are  in  their  very  nature  small  and 
exclusive,  the  college  is  ample  in  size  and  is  con- 
sciously and  effectively  inclusive ;  the  very  fact  of 
living  in  it  insures  a  well-ordered  life  and  abun- 
dant opportunity  for  making  friends.  Yet  within 
this  democratic  college  one  finds  all  sorts  of  clubs 
and  societies,  except  those  whose  main  purpose 
is  residential,  and  these  are  obviously  not  neces- 
sary. 

By  far  the  larger  proportion  of  the  clubs  are 
formed  to  promote  the  recognized  undergraduate 
activities.  No  college  is  without  athletic  and  de- 
bating clubs,  and  there  are  musical  and  literary 
clubs  almost  everywhere.  Membership  in  all  of 
them  is  little  more  than  a  formal  expression  of  the 
fact  that  a  man  desires  to  row,  play  cricket  or 
52 


CLUB  LIFE  IN  THE   COLLEGE 

football,  to  debate,  read  Shakespeare,  or  play  the 
fiddle.  Yet  they  are  all  conducted  with  a  degree 
of  social  amenity  that  to  an  American  is  as  sur- 
prising as  it  is  delightful. 

The  only  distinctively  social  feature  of  the  ath- 
letic clubs  is  the  wine,  which  is  given  to  celebrate 
the  close  of  a  successful  season.  A  boating  wine 
I  remember  was  held  in  a  severe  and  sombre  old 
hall,  built  before  Columbus  sailed  the  ocean  blue. 
It  was  presided  over  by  a  knot  of  the  dons,  an- 
cient oarsmen,  whose  hearts  were  still  in  the  sport. 
They  sat  on  the  dais,  like  the  family  of  a  baron 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  while  the  undergraduates  sat 
about  the  tables  like  faithful  retainers.  All  the 
sportsmen  of  the  college  were  invited,  and  every- 
body made  as  much  noise  as  he  could,  especially 
one  of  the  boating  men,  who  went  to  the  piano  and 
banged  out  a  song  of  triumph  he  had  written, 
while  we  all  tumbled  into  the  chorus.  One  of  the 
fellows  —  I  have  always  taken  it  as  a  compliment 
to  my  presence  —  improvised  a  cheer  after  the 
manner  not  unknown  in  America,  which  was  given 
with  much  friendly  laughter.  "  Quite  jolly,  is  n't 
it! n  he  remarked,  with  the  pride  of  authorship, 
"  and  almost  as  striking  as  your  cry  of  '  Quack, 
quack,  quack  ! '"  He  had  heard  the  Yale  men  give 
their  adaptation  of  the  frog  chorus  at  the  athletic 
53 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

games  between  Oxford  and  Yale.  About  mid- 
night the  college  butler  passed  a  loving  cup  of 
mulled  wine  of  a  spicy  smoothness  to  fill  your 
veins  with  liquid  joy.  The  recipe,  I  was  told, 
had  been  handed  down  by  the  butlers  of  the  col- 
lege since  the  fourteenth  century,  being  older  than 
the  hall  in  which  we  were  drinking.  I  have  no 
doubt  it  was  the  -cordial  Chaucer  calls  Ypocras, 
which  seems  to  have  brought  joy  to  his  warm  old 
heart.  After  the  loving  cup  had  gone  about,  the 
fellows  cleared  away  the  tables  and  danced  a  stag. 
At  this  stage  of  the  game  the  dons  discreetly 
faded  away,  and  the  wine  resolved  itself  into  a 
good-natured  rag  in  the  quad  that  was  ended  only 
by  daylight  and  the  dean.  I  have  seen  many 
feasts  to  celebrate  athletic  victory  and  the  break- 
ing of  training,  but  none  as  homelike  and  pleasant 
all  through  as  the  wine  of  an  Oxford  college. 

The  debating  clubs  have  of  necessity  a  distinct 
social  element,  for  where  there  is  much  talk,  food 
and  drink  will  always  be  found  ;  and  with  the 
social  element  there  is  apt  to  be  some  little  exclu- 
siveness.  In  Balliol  there  are  three  debating  clubs, 
and  they  are  of  course  in  some  sense  rivals.  Like 
the  fraternities  in  an  American  college,  they  look 
over  the  freshmen  each  year  pretty  closely ;  and 
the  freshmen  in  turn  weigh  the  clubs.  One  fresh- 
54 


CLUB   LIFE  IN  THE   COLLEGE 

man  gave  his  verdict  as  follows :  "  The  fellows  in     A 
A  are  dull,  and  bathe  ;  the  fellows  in  B  are  clever,   /      , 
and  sometimes  bathe  ;  the  fellows  in  C  a*e— s«pso|  V " 
posed  to  be  clever."     The  saying  is  not  altogether 
a  pleasant  one,  but  will  serve  to  indicate  the  range 
of  selection  of  members.     In  spite  of  social  dis- 
tinctions, few  fellows  need  be  excluded  who  care  to 
debate  or  are  clubable  in  spirit.     As  a  system,  the 
clubs  are  inclusive  rather  than  exclusive. 

Each  club  convenes  at  regular  intervals,  usually 
in  the  rooms  of  such  members  as  volunteer  to  be 
hosts.  The  hour  of  meeting  is  directly  after  din- 
ner, and  while  the  men  gather  and  settle  down  to 
the  business  of  the  evening,  coffee,  port,  and  to- 
bacco are  provided  out  of  the  club  treasury.  The 
debates  are  supposed  to  be  carried  on  according  to 
the  strictest  parliamentary  law,  and  the  man  who 
transgresses  is  subject  to  a  sharp  rebuff.  On  one 
occasion,  when  the  question  of  paying  members  of 
Parliament  was  up,  one  speaker  gravely  argued 
that  the  United  States  Senate  was  filled  with  poli- 
ticians who  were  attracted  by  the  salary.  Though 
I  had  already  spoken,  I  got  up  to  protest.  The 
chairman  sat  me  down  with  the  greatest  severity 
—  amid  a  broad  and  general  smile.  I  had  neg- 
lected, I  suppose,  the  parliamentary  remark  that 
I  arose  to  a  point  of  fact.  A  member's  redress  in 
55 


AN   AMERICAN   AT   OXFORD 

such  instances  is  to  rag  the  president  at  the  time 
when,  according  to  custom,  interpellations  are  in 
order ;  and  as  a  rule  he  avails  himself  of  this 
opportunity  without  mercy.  On  one  occasion,  a 
fellow  got  up  in  the  strictest  parliamentary  man- 
ner and  asked  the  president  —  a  famous  shot  on 
the  moors  —  whether  it  was  true,  as  reported,  that 
on  the  occasion  when  he  lately  fell  over  a  fence 
three  wrens  and  a  chipping  sparrow  fell  out  of  his 
game-bag.  Such  ragging  as  the  chair  administers 
and  receives  may  not  aid  greatly  in  rational  de- 
bate, but  it  certainly  has  its  value  as  a  preparation 
for  the  shifts  and  formalities  of  parliamentary  life. 
It  is  the  first  duty  of  a  chairman,  even  the  presi- 
dent of  the  Oxford  Union,  to  meet  his  ragging 
with  cheerfulness  and  a  ready  reply,  and  the  first 
duty  of  all  debaters  is  to  be  interesting  as  well  as 
convincing.  In  American  college  debating  there 
is  little  of  such  humor  and  none  of  such  levity. 
The  speakers  are  drafted  to  sustain  or  to  oppose  a 
position,  often  without  much  reference  to  their  con- 
victions, and  are  supposed  to  do  so  to  the  utter- 
most. The  training  is  no  doubt  a  good  one,  for  life 
is  largely  partisan;  but  a  man's  success  in  the 
world  depends  almost  as  much  on  his  tact  and  good 
sense  as  on  his  strenuosity. 

The  Englishman's  advantage  in  address  is  some- 
56 


CLUB   LIFE   IN  THE   COLLEGE 

times  offset  by  deficiencies  of  information.  In  a 
debate  on  Home  Rule,  one  argument  ran  somewhat 
as  follows :  It  is  asserted  that  the  Irish  are  irre- 
sponsible and  lacking  in  the  sense  of  administrative 
justice.  To  refute  this  statement,  I  have  only  to 
point  to  America,  to  the  great  metropolis  of  New 
York.  There,  as  is  well  known,  politics  are  exclu- 
sively in  the  hands  of  Irish  citizens,  who,  denied  the 
right  of  self-government  —  as  the  American  colo- 
nies were  denied  similar  freedom,  I  need  scarcely 
point  out  with  what  disastrous  results  to  the  empire 
—  the  Irish  immigrants  in  America,  I  say,  are 
evincing  their  true  genius  for  statesmanship  in  their 
splendid  organization  known  as  Tammany  Hill. 

In  the  better  clubs,  the  debates  are  often  well 
prepared  and  cogent.  I  remember  with  particular 
gratitude  a  discussion  as  to  whether  the  English 
love  of  comfort  was  not  an  evidence  of  softening 
morals.  The  discussion  was  opened  with  a  paper 
by  a  young  Scotchman  of  family  and  fortune. 
More  than  any  other  man  I  met  he  had  realized 
the  sweetness  and  pleasantness  of  Oxford,  and  all 
the  delights  of  the  senses  and  of  the  mind  that  sur- 
round the  fellows  there ;  and  the  result  of  it  was, 
as  it  has  so  often  been  with  such  men,  a  craving 
for  the  extreme  opposite  of  all  he  had  known,  for 
moral  earnestness  and  austerity.  What  right,  he 
57 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

questioned,  had  one  to  buy  a  book  which,  with  ever 
so  little  more  effort,  he  might  read  in  the  Bodleian, 
while  all  the  poor  of  England  are  uneducated? 
And  was  it  manly  or  in  any  way  proper  to  spend 
so  much  time  and  interest  on  things  that  are  merely 
agreeable  ?  The  sense  of  the  meeting  seemed  to  be 
that  comfort  in  daily  life  is  an  evil  only  when  it 
becomes  an  end  in  itself,  a  self-indulgence ;  and  that 
a  certain  amount  of  it  is  necessary  to  fortify  one  for 
the  most  strenuous  and  earnest  work  in  the  world. 
I  think  that  debate  made  us  realize,  as  we  never 
could  have  realized  without  it,  to  what  serious  end 
England  makes  the  ways  of  her  young  men  so 
pleasant ;  yet  the  more  deeply  I  lived  into  the  life 
of  the  university,  the  more  deeply  I  questioned,  as 
the  young  Scotchman  did,  whether  the  line  between 
the  amenities  and  the  austerities  was  not  somewhat 
laxly  drawn. 

The  only  purely  "social  club,  and  therefore  the 
only  really  exclusive  one,  is  the  wine  club.  In  Bal- 
liol  there  is  a  college  rule  against  wine  clubs,  which 
seems  to  be  due  partly  to  a  feeling  against  social 
exclusiveness,  and  partly  perhaps  to  a  distrust  of 
purely  convivial  gatherings.  The  purpose  of  a 
wine  club  was  served  quite  as  well,  however,  by 
an  organization  that  was  ostensibly  for  debating. 
The  notices  of  meetings  were  usually  a  parody  of 
58 


CLUB  LIFE  IN  THE   COLLEGE 

the  notices  of  the  meetings  of  genuine  debating 
clubs,  and  the  chief  business  of  the  secretary  was 
to  concoct  them  in  pleasing  variety.  For  instance, 
it  would  be  Resolved,  that  this  House  looks  with 
disfavor  upon  the  gradual  introduction  of  a  con- 
tinental sabbath  into  England ;  or  Resolved,  that 
this  House  looks  with  marked  disfavor  upon  the 
assumption  that  total  abstinence  is  a  form  of  intem- 
perance. On  the  evening  when  the  House  was 
defending  total  abstinence,  our  host's  furniture 
and  tea-things  suffered  some  damage,  and  as  I  was 
in  training,  I  found  it  advisable  to  leave  early.  As 
I  slipped  out,  the  president  of  the  club,  a  young 
nobleman,  who  was  himself  at  the  time  in  training 
for  the  'varsity  trial  eights,  called  me  back  and 
said  with  marked  sobriety  that  he  had  just  thought 
of  something.  "  You  are  in  for  the  mile  run,  are  n't 
you  ?  And  in  America  you  have  always  run  the 
half.  Well,  then,  if  you  find  the  distance  too  long 
for  you,  just  don't  mind  at  all  about  the  first  part 
of  the  race,  but  when  you  get  to  the  last  part,  run 
as  you  run  a  half  mile.  Do  it  in  two  minutes,  and 
you  can't  help  beating  'em."  He  bade  me  good-night 
with  a  grave  and  authoritative  shake  of  the  hand. 
If  he  recalled  his  happy  thought  next  morning,  he 
was  unable  to  avail  himself  of  it,  for  I  grieve  to 
say  that  in  the  'varsity  trial  race,  which  came  only 
59 


AN  AMERICAN  AT   OXFORD 
I 

a  few  days  later,  he  missed  his  blue  by  going  badly 

to  pieces  on  the  finish. 

The  meeting  at  which  this  occurred  was  excep- 
tional. For  the  most  part  the  fellows  were  mod- 
erate enough,  and  at  times  I  suspected  the  wine 
club  of  being  dull.  Certainly,  we  had  no  such  fun 
as  at  the  more  general  jubilations  —  a  rag  in  the 
quad  or  a  boating  wine.  I  doubt  if  any  one  would 
have  cared  so  very  much  to  belong  to  the  club  if 
it  had  not  afforded  the  only  badge  of  social  dis- 
tinction in  college,  and  if  this  had  not  happened 
to  be  an  unusually  pretty  hatband.  However  suc- 
cessful a  wine  club  may  be,  moreover,  it  is  of  far 
less  consequence  than  similar  clubs  in  America. 
In  the  first  place,  since  there  are  one  or  more  of 
them  in  each  of  the  twenty  colleges,  the  number 
of  men  who  belong  to  them  is  far  greater  relatively, 
which  of  course  means  far  less  exclusion.  In  the 
second  place,  and  this  is  more  important,  the  fel- 
lows who  do  not  belong  are  still  able  to  enjoy  the 
life  which  is  common  to  all  members  of  the  college. 
In  general,  the  social  walls  of  Oxford  are  like  the 
material  ones.  Far  from  being  the  means  of  undue 
exclusion  and  of  the  suppression  of  public  feeling, 
they  are  the  live  tissues  in  which  the  vital  functions 
of  the  place  are  performed. 

Until  well  along  in  the  nineteenth  century,  this 
60 


CLUB  LIFE   IN   THE   COLLEGE 

life  in  the  college  was  about  the  only  life ;  but  of 
late  years  the  university  has  begun  to  feel  its  unity 
more  strongly,  and  in  social  and  intellectual  life,  as 
in  athletjcs,  it  has  become  for  the  first  time  since 
the  Middle  Ages  an  organic  whole. 


61 


VIII 

SOCIAL  LIFE  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY 

THE  first  formal  organization  of  the  life  of 
the  university  was,  as  its  name  records,  the 
Oxford  Union,  an  institution  of  peculiar  interest 
to  Americans  because  our  universities,  though 
starting  from  a  point  diametrically  opposite,  have 
arrived  at  a  state  of  social  disorganization  no  less 
pronounced  than  that  which  the  Union  was  in- 
tended to  remedy.  Harvard,  which  has  progressed 
farthest  along  the  path  of  social  expansion  and  dis- 
integration, has  already  made  a  conscious  effort  to 
imitate  the  Union.  The  adamantine  spirit  of  Yale 
is  shaken  by  the  problems  of  the  Sophomore  soci- 
eties ;  and  it  will  not  be  many  decades  before  other 
universities  will  be  in  a  similar  predicament.  It 
will  not  be  amiss,  therefore,  to  consider  what  the 
Oxford  Union  has  been  and  is.  If  Americans 
have  not  clearly  understood  it  even  when  attempt- 
ing to  imitate  it,  one  should  at  least  remember  that 
it  would  not  be  easy  for  an  Oxford  man  to  explain 
it  thoroughly. 

The  Union  was  founded  in  1823,  and  was  pri- 
62 


SOCIAL  LIFE  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY 

marily  for  debating.  In  fact,  it  was  the  only  uni- 
versity debating  society.  Its  members  were  care- 
fully selected  for  their  ability  in  discoursing  on 
the  questions  of  the  day.  In  its  debates  Gladstone, 
Lord  Rosebery,  the  Marquis  of  Salisbury,  and 
countless  other  English  statesmen  of  recent  times 
got  their  first  parliamentary  training.  Its  present 
fame  in  England  is  largely  based  upon  this  fact ; 
but  its  character  has  been  metamorphosed.  Early 
in  its  history  it  developed  social  features;  and 
though  it  was  still  exclusive  in  membership,  little 
by  little  men  of  all  kinds  were  taken  in.  At  this 
stage  of  its  development,  the  Union  was  not  unlike 
those  vast  political  clubs  in  London  in  which  any 
and  all  principles  are  subordinated  to  the  kitchen 
and  the  wine  cellar.  The  debates,  though  still  of 
first-rate  quality,  became  more  and  more  an  inci- 
dent ;  the  club  was  chiefly  remarkable  as  the  epit- 
ome of  all  the  best  elements  of  Oxford  life.  The 
library  was  filled  with  men  reading  or  working  at 
special  hobbies ;  the  reading  and  smoking  rooms 
were  crowded  ;  the  lawn  was  daily  thronged  with 
undergraduates  gossiping  over  a  cup  of  tea;  the 
telegram  board,  the  shrine  of  embryo  politicians 
watching  for  the  results  from  a  general  election, 
was  apt  to  be  profaned  by  sporting  men  scanning 
it  for  the  winners  of  the  Derby  or  the  Ascot.  In 
63 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

a  word,  the  Union  held  the  elect  of  Oxford,  intel- 
lectual, social,  and  sporting.  This  is  the  Union 
remembered  by  the  older  graduates,  and  except  for 
a  single  feature,  namely,  that  it  was  still  exclusive, 
this  is  the  Union  that  has  inspired  the  projectors 
of  the  Harvard  Union. 

The  Oxford  man  of  the  later  day  knows  all  too 
well  that  this  Union  is  no  more.  Some  years  ago, 
responding  to  a  democratic  impulse  that  has  been 
very  strong  of  late  at  Oxford,  the  Union  threw 
down  all  barriers  ;  virtually  any  man  nowadays 
may  join  it,  and  its  members  number  well  beyond 
a  thousand.  The  result  is  not  a  social  millennium. 
The  very  feature  of  inclusiveness  that  is  to  be 
most  prominent  in  the  Union  at  Harvard  destroyed 
the  character  of  the  Oxford  Union  as  a  represent- 
ative body.  To  the  casual  observer  it  still  looks 
much  as  it  did  a  dozen  years  ago ;  but  its  glory 
has  departed.  In  any  real  sense  of  the  word  it  is 
a  Union  no  more.  The  men  who  used  to  give  it 
character  are  to  be  found  in  smaller  clubs,  very 
much  like  the  clubs  of  an  American  university. 

The  small  university  debating  clubs  are  the  Rus- 
sell, the  Palmerston,  the  Canning,  and  the  Chat- 
ham, each  of  which  stands  for  some  special  stripe 
of  political  thought,  and  each  of  which  has  a 
special  color  which  —  sure  sign  of  the  pride  of  ex- 
64 


SOCIAL  LIFE   IN  THE   UNIVERSITY 

clusiveness  —  it  wears  in  hatbands.  The  clubs 
meet  periodically  —  often  weekly  —  in  the  rooms 
of  members.  Sometimes  a  paper  is  read  which  is 
followed  by  an  informal  discussion  ;  but  the  usual 
exercise  is  a  formal  debate.  Time  was  when  the 
best  debates  came  off  at  the  Union,  and  writers  of 
leading  articles  in  London  papers  even  now  look 
to  it  as  a  political  weather-vane.  The  debates 
there  are  still  earnest  and  sometimes  brilliant,  and 
to  have  presided  over  them  is  a  distinction  of 
value  in  after  life ;  but  as  far  as  I  could  gather, 
their  prestige  is  falling  before  the  smaller  debating 
clubs.  The  main  interest  at  the  Union  appeared 
to  centre  in  the  interpellation  of  the  president, 
which  is  carried  on  much  as  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, though  with  this  difference,  that,  following 
the  immemorial  custom,  it  is  turned  into  ragging, 
When  this  is  over,  the  major  part  of  the  audience 
clears  out  to  the  smoking  and  reading  rooms.  In 
the  smaller  clubs  the  exercises  are  not  only  seri- 
ous, but  —  in  spite  of  the  preliminary  ragging, 
which  no  function  at  Oxford  may  flourish  without 
—  they  are  taken  seriously.  The  clubs  really 
include  the  best  forensic  ability  of  Oxford.  At 
the  end  of  each  year  they  give  dinners,  at  which 
new  and  old  members  gather,  while  some  promi- 
nent politician  from  Westminster  holds  forth  on 
65 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

the  question  of  the  hour.  In  a  word,  these  clubs, 
collectively,  are  what  the  Union  once  was  —  the 
training  school  of  British  statesmen. 

The  university  social  clubs  are  of  a  newness  that 
shocks  even  an  American ;  but  it  would  not  be 
quite  just  to  account  for  the  fact  by  regarding 
them  as  mere  offshoots,  like  the  debating  clubs,  of 
a  parent  Union.  Until  the  nineteenth  century, 
there  really  was  no  university  at  Oxford,  at  least  in 
modern  times.  The  colleges  were  quite  independ- 
ent of  one  another  socially  and  in  athletics,  and 
each  of  them  provided  all  the  necessary  instruc- 
tion for  its  members.  The  social  clubs  which  now 
admit  members  from  the  university  at  large  began 
life  as  wine  clubs  of  separate  colleges,  and  even 
to-day  the  influence  of  the  parent  college  is  apt 
to  predominate.  The  noteworthy  fact  is  that  in 
proportion  as  the  social  prestige  of  the  Union  has 
declined,  these  college  wine  clubs,  like  the  small 
debating  clubs,  have  gained  character  and  pres- 
tige. 

The  oldest  of  these  is  the  Bullingdon,  which  is 
not  quite  as  old,  I  gathered,  as  the  Institute  of  1770 
at  Harvard,  and,  considered  as  a  university  organ- 
ization, it  is  of  course  much  younger.  It  was  ori- 
ginally the  Christ  Church  wine  club,  and  to-day 
it  is  dominated  by  the  sporting  element  of  Christ 
66 


'  SOCIAL  LIFE  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY 

Church,  which  is  the  most  aristocratic  of  Oxford 
colleges.  In  former  years,  it  is  said,  the  club  had 
kennels  at  Bullingdon,  and  held  periodic  hunts 
there ;  and  it  is  still  largely  composed  of  hunting 
men.  To-day  it  justifies  its  name  mainly  by  hav- 
ing an  annual  dinner  beneath  the  heavy  rafters  of 
a  mediaeval  barn  at  Bullingdon.  On  these,  as  on 
other  state  occasions,  the  members  wear  a  distinc- 
tive costume  —  no  doubt  a  tradition  from  the  time 
when  men  generally  wore  colors  —  which  consists 
of  a  blue  evening  coat  with  white  facings  and  brass 
buttons,  a  canary  waistcoat,  and  a  blue  tie.  This 
uniform  is  no  doubt  found  in  more  aristocratic 
wardrobes  than  any  other  Oxford  trophy.  The 
influence  of  the  Bullingdon  is  indirectly  to  dis- 
courage athletics,  which  it  regards  as  unaristocratic 
and  incompatible  with  conviviality ;  so  that  Christ 
Church,  though  the  largest  of  Oxford  colleges  and 
one  of  the  wealthiest,  is  of  secondary  importance 
in  sports.  For  this  reason  the  Bullingdon  has  suf- 
fered a  partial  eclipse,  for  the  middle-class  spirit 
which  is  invading  Oxford  has  given  athletic  sports 
the  precedence  over  hunting,  while  expensive  liv- 
ing and  mere  social  exclusiveness  are  less  the  vogue. 
By  a  curious  analogy,  one  of  the  oldest  and  most 
exclusive  of  the  clubs  at  Harvard  is  similarly  out 
of  sympathy  with  the  athletic  spirit. 
67 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFOED 

Another  old  and  prominent  college  wine  club 
that  has  come  to  elect  members  from  without  is  the 
Phoenix  of  Brazenose,  the  uniform  of  which  is  per- 
haps more  beautiful  than  the  Bullingdon  uniform, 
consisting  of  a  peculiar  dark  wine-colored  coat, 
brass  buttons,  and  a  light  buff  waistcoat.  In  gen- 
eral, the  college  wine  clubs  are  more  or  less  taking 
on  a  university  character.  The  Annandale  Club 
of  Balliol,  for  instance,  has  frequent  guests  from 
outside,  and  often  elects  them  to  membership  out 
of  compliment.  At  the  formal  wines  the  members 
have  the  privilege  of  inviting  outside  guests. 

The  most  popular  and  representative  Oxford 
club  is  Vincent's,  which  owes  its  prominence  to  the 
fact  that  it  expresses  the  enthusiasm  of  modern 
Oxford  for  athletics.  It  was  founded  only  a 
third  of  a  century  ago,  but  it  must  be  remembered 
that  inter-varsity  boat  races  did  not  become  usual 
until  1839,  nor  a  fixture  until  1856  ;  that  the  first 
inter-varsity  athletic  meeting  came  in  1864,  and  the 
first  inter-varsity  football  game  as  late  as  1873. 
Vincent's  was  originally  composed  largely  of  men 
from  University  College,  which  was  at  that  time  a 
leader  in  sports ;  but  later  it  elected  many  men 
from  Brazenose,  then  in  the  ascendant.  When 
Brazenose  became  more  prominent  in  athletics,  it 
gained  a  controlling  influence  in  Vincent's ;  and 
68 


SOCIAL  LIFE  IN  THE   UNIVERSITY 

when  it  declined,  as  it  lately  did,  the  leadership 
passed  on.  The  name  Vincent's  came  from  a 
printer's  shop,  above  which  the  club  had  its  rooms. 
Any  second  year  man  is  eligible ;  in  fact,  until  a 
few  years  ago,  freshmen  were  often  taken  in.  The 
limit  of  members  is  ninety,  but  as  the  club  is 
always  a  dozen  or  so  short  of  this,  no  good  fellow 
is  excluded  for  lack  of  a  place.  When  a  man  is 
proposed,  his  name  is  written  in  a  book,  in  which 
space  is  left  for  friends  in  the  club  to  write  their 
names  in  approval.  After  this,  elections  are  in 
the  hands  of  a  committee.  Like  all  Oxford  clubs, 
Vincent's  will  always,  I  suppose,  lean  towards 
men  of  some  special  college  or  group  of  colleges ; 
yet  it  is  careful  to  elect  all  clubable  blues,  and, 
in  point  of  fact,  is  representative  of  the  univer- 
sity at  large,  as,  for  instance,  the  Hasty  Pudding 
Club  at  Harvard,  or  the  senior  societies  at  Yale,  to 
which,  on  the  whole,  it  most  nearly  corresponds. 

The  most  democratic,  as  well  as  one  of  the  most 
recent  of  the  more  purely  social  clubs,  is  the  Grid- 
iron. It  is  a  dining  rather  than  a  social  club,  and 
one  may  invite  to  his  board  as  many  guests  who 
are  not  members  as  he  chooses.  Any  good  fellow 
is  eligible,  though  here,  again,  a  man  in  one  of  the 
less  known  colleges  might  fail  to  get  in  from  lack 
of  acquaintances  on  the  election  committee. 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

The  Union  has  long  lost  prestige  before  this  de- 
velopment of  small  exclusive  clubs.  Politically, 
socially,  and  even  in  that  most  essential  depart- 
ment, the  kitchen,  it  holds  a  second  place.  If  you 
ask  men  of  the  kind  that  used  to  give  it  its  char- 
acter why  they  never  go  there,  they  will  tell  you, 
in  the  most  considerate  phrase,  how  the  pressure 
of  other  undergraduate  affairs  is  so  great  that  they 
have  not  yet  found  time ;  and  this  is  quite  true. 
They  may  add  that  next  year  they  intend  to  make 
the  time,  for  they  believe  that  one  should  know  all 
kinds  of  men  at  Oxford ;  and  they  are  quite  sin- 
cere. But  next  year  they  are  more  preoccupied 
than  ever.  If  Oxford  is  united  socially,  it  is  not 
because  of  the  Oxford  Union. 

In  addition  to  the  clubs  which  are  mainly  social, 
there  is  the  usual  variety  of  special  organizations. 
These,  as  a  rule,  are  of  recent  growth.  The  Musi- 
cal Union  has  frequent  meetings  for  practice,  and 
gives  at  least  one  concert  a  year.  The  Dramatic 
Society,  the  O.  U.  D.  S.,  as  it  is  popularly  called, 
will  be  seen  to  be  a  very  portentous  organization. 
In  America,  college  men  give  comic  operas  and 
burlesques,  usually  writing  both  the  book  and  the 
music  themselves ;  and  when  they  do,  there  is  apt 
to  be  a  Donnybrook  Fair  for  vulnerable  heads  in 
the  faculty.  So  well  is  musical  nonsense  adapted  to 
70 


SOCIAL  LIFE  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY 

the  calibre  of  the  undergraduate  mind  that  college 
plays  sometimes  find  their  way  to  the  professional 
stage,  and  to  no  small  general  favor.  At  Oxford 
the  Vice-Chancellor,  who  is  a  law  to  himself  and  to 
the  university,  has  decreed  that  there  shall  be  no  fun 
and  nonsense.  If  the  absurdities  of  donnishness 
are  all  too  fair  a  mark  for  the  undergraduate  wit, 
the  Vice-Chancellor  has  found  a  very  serviceable 
scapegoat.  He  permits  the  undergraduates  to  pre- 
sent the  plays  of  Shakespeare.  Surely  Shakespeare 
can  stand  the  racket.  The  aim  of  the  O.  U.  D.  S. 
seems  to  be  to  get  as  many  blues  as  possible  into 
the  cast  of  a  Shakespearean  production,  with  the 
idea,  perhaps,  of  giving  Oxford  its  full  money's 
worth.  I  remember  well  the  sensation  made  by  the 
most  famous  of  all  university  athletes,  —  a  "  quad- 
ruple blue,"  who  played  on  four  university  teams, 
was  captain  of  three  of  them,  and  held  one  world's 
record.  The  play  was  "  The  Merchant  of  Venice," 
and  the  athlete  in  question  was  the  swarthy  Prince 
of  Morocco.  Upon  opening  the  golden  casket  his 
powers  of  elocution  rose  to  unexpected  heights. 
Fellows  went  again  and  again  to  hear  him  cry, 
"  O  hell !  what  have  we  here  ?  "  In  one  way,  how- 
ever, the  performances  of  the  O.  U.  D.  S.  are 
really  noteworthy.  Not  even  the  crudest  acting 
can  entirely  disguise  the  influences  of  birth  and 
71 


AN  AMERICAN   AT   OXFORD 

environment ;  and  few  Shakespearean  actors  have 
as  fine  a  natural  carriage  as  those  companies  of 
trained  athletes.  For  the  first  time,  perhaps,  on 
any  stage,  the  ancient  Roman  honor  more  or  less 
appeared  in  Antonio,  and  there  were  really  two 
gentlemen  in  Yerona.  For  this  reason  —  or,  what 
is  more  likely,  merely  because  the  plays  are  given 
by  Oxford  men  —  the  leading  dramatic  critics  of 
London  run  up  every  year  for  the  O.  U.  D.  S. 
performance,  and  talk  learnedly  about  it  in  their 
dignified  periodicals.  Both  the  musical  and  the 
dramatic  societies  have  an  increasing  social  ele- 
ment, and  the  dramatic  society  has  a  house  of  its 
own. 

Of  at  least  one  association  I  happened  upon,  I 
know  of  no  American  parallel.  One  Sunday  after- 
noon, a  lot  of  fellows  who  had  been  lunching  each 
other  in  academic  peace  were  routed  from  college 
by  a  Salvation  Army  gathering  that  was  sending 
up  the  discordant  notes  of  puritanical  piety  just 
outside  the  walls.  In  the  street  near  by  we  came 
upon  a  quiet  party  of  undergraduates  in  cap  and 
gown.  They  were  standing  in  a  circle,  at  the  foot 
of  the  Martyr's  Memorial,  and  were  alternately 
singing  hymns  and  exhorting  the  townspeople  who 
gathered  about.  Their  faces  were  earnest  and 
simple,  their  attitude  erect.  If  they  were  conscious 
72 


SOCIAL  LIFE  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY 

of  doing  an  unusual  thing,  they  did  not  show  it.  I 
don't  remember  that  they  moved  any  of  us  to  re- 
pent the  pleasantness  of  our  ways,  but  I  know  that 
they  filled  the  most  careless  of  us  with  a  very  defi- 
nite admiration.  One  of  the  fellows  said  that  he 
thought  them  mighty  plucky,  and  that  they  had 
the  stuff  at  least  out  of  which  sportsmen  are  made. 
The  phrase  is  peculiarly  British,  but  in  the  under- 
graduate vernacular  there  is  no  higher  epithet  of 
praise.  In  America  there  are  slumming  societies 
and  total  abstinence  leagues ;  but  I  never  knew  any 
body  of  men  who  had  the  courage  to  stand  up  in 
the  highway  and  preach  their  gospel  to  passers-by. 


73 


IX 

THE  COLLEGE  AND  THE  UNIVERSITY 

THE  distinctive  feature  of  the  social  organiza- 
tion of  Oxford  life  is  said  to  be  the  colleges. 
Fifty  years  ago  the  remark  held  good,  but  to-day 
it  requires  an  extension.  The  distinctive  feature 
is  the  duality  of  the  social  organization:  a  man 
who  enters  fully  into  undergraduate  affairs  takes 
part  both  in  the  life  of  the  college  and  in  the  life 
of  the  university.  The  life  of  the  college,  in  so 
far  as  it  is  wholesome,  is  open  to  all  newcomers ; 
it  is  so  organized  as  to  exert  powerfully  upon 
them  the  force  of  its  best  influences  and  tradi- 
tions, and  is  thus  in  the  highest  degree  inclusive. 
The  life  of  the  university,  in  so  far  as  it  is  vigor- 
ous, is  in  the  main  open  only  to  those  who  bring 
to  it  special  gifts  and  abilities,  and  is  therefore 
necessarily  exclusive.  In  college,  one  freely  en- 
joys all  that  is  fundamental  in  the  life  of  a  young 
man  —  a  pleasant  place  to  sleep  in  and  to  dine 
in,  pleasant  fellows  with  whom  to  work  and  to 
play.  In  the  university,  one  finds  scope  for  his 
special  capacities  in  conviviality  or  in  things  of 
74 


THE  COLLEGE  AND  THE  UNIVEKSITY 

the  mind.  More  than  any  other  institution,  the 
English  university  thus  mirrors  the  conditions  of 
social  life  in  the  world  at  large,  in  which  one  is 
primarily  a  member  of  his  family,  and  takes  part/ 
in  the  life  of  the  outside  community  in  proportion 
as  his  abilities  lead  him. 

The  happiest  thing  about  all  this  is  that  it  af- 
fords the  freest  possible  interplay  of  social  forces. 
As  soon  as  a  newcomer  gains  distinction,  as  he 
does  at  once  if  he  has  the  capacity,  he  is  noticed 
by  the  leading  men  of  the  college,  and  is  thus  in 
a  way  to  be  taken  into  the  life  of  the  university. 
From  the  college  breakfast  it  is  only  a  step  to 
the  Gridiron,  from  the  college  eight  to  Vincent's, 
and  from  the  debating  society  to  the  Chatham 
or  the  Canning.  These,  like  all  undergraduate 
clubs,  are  in  yearly  need  of  new  members,  and 
the  older  men  in  college  are  only  too  glad  to  urge 
the  just  claims  of  the  younger  for  good-fellow- 
ship sake,  and  for  the  general  credit  of  their  insti- 
tution. 

Even  when  a  fellow  has  received  all  the  univer- 
sity has  to  offer,  he  is  still  amenable  to  the  duality 
of  Oxford  life.  In  American  institutions,  in  pro- 
portion as  a  man  is  happily  clubbed,  he  is  by  the 
very  nature  of  the  social  organization  withdrawn 
from  his  college  mates ;  but  at  Oxford  he  still 
75 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

dines  in  Hall,  holds  forth  at  the  college  debating 
society,  plays  on  the  college  teams,  and,  until  his 
final  year,  he  lives  within  the  college  walls.  First, 
last,  and  always  his  general  life  is  bound  up  with 
that  of  the  college. 

The  prominent  men  thus  become  a  medium  by 
which  every  undergraduate  is  brought  in  touch 
with  the  life  of  the  university.  The  news  of  the 
athletic  world  is  reported  at  Vincent's  over  after- 
noon tea ;  and  at  dinner  time  the  men  who  have 
discussed  it  there  relate  it  to  their  mates  in  the 
halls  of  a  dozen  colleges.  A  celebrated  debater 
brings  the  news  of  the  Union  or  of  the  smaller 
clubs;  and  whatever  a  man's  affiliations  in  the 
university,  he  can  scarcely  help  bringing  the  re- 
port of  them  back  with  him.  In  an  incredibly 
short  time  all  undergraduate  news,  and  the  judg- 
ments upon  it  of  those  best  qualified  to  judge, 
ramify  the  college ;  and  men  who  seldom  stir  be- 
yond its  walls  are  brought  closely  in  touch  with 
the  innermost  spirit  of  the  university  life.  Here, 
again,  those  forbidding  walls  make  possible  a  free- 
dom of  social  interplay  which  is  unknown  in 
America.  The  real  union  of  Oxford,  social,  ath- 
letic, and  intellectual,  is  quite  apart  from  the  so- 
called  Oxford  Union ;  it  results  from  the  nice 
adjustment  between  the  general  residential  life  of 
76 


THE   COLLEGE  AND  THE  UNIVERSITY 

the  colleges  and  the  specialized  activities  of   the 
university. 

The  immediate  effect  of  this  union  is  the  hum- 
ble one  of  making  the  present  life  of  the  under- 
graduate convenient  and  enjoyable  ;  but  its  ulti- 
mate effect  is  a  matter  of  no  little  importance. 
Every  undergraduate,  in  proportion  to  his  suscep- 
tibilities and  capacities,  comes  under  the  influence 
of  the  social  and  intellectual  traditions  of  Oxford, 
which  are  the  traditions  of  centuries  of  the  best 
English  life.  In  Canada  and  Australia,  South 
Africa  and  India,  you  will  find  the  old  Oxonian 
wearing  the  hatband,  perhaps  faded  and  weather- 
stained,  that  at  Oxford  denoted  the  thing  he  was 
most  proud  to  stand  for ;  and  wherever  you  find 
him,  you  will  find  also  the  manners  and  standards 
of  the  university,  which  are  quite  as  definite  a  part 
of  him,  though  perhaps  less  conspicuous.  With- 
out a  large  body  of  men  animated  by  such  tradi- 
tions, it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  it  would 
not  have  been  possible  to  build  up  the  British 
empire.  If  the  people  of  the  United  States  are 
to  bear  creditably  the  responsibilities  to  civiliza- 
tion that  have  lately  fallen  to  them,  or  have  been 
assumed,  there  is  urgent  need  for  institutions  that 
shall  similarly  impose  upon  our  young  men  the 
best  traditions  and  influences  of  American  life. 
77 


n 

OXFORD  OUT  OP  DOORS 


SLACKING  ON  THE  ISIS  AND  THE  CHERWELL 

THE  dual  development  of  college  and  univer- 
sity, with  all  its  organic  coordinations,  exists 
also  in  the  sports  of  Oxford.  The  root  and  trunk 
of  the  athletic  spirit  lies  in  the  colleges,  though  its 
highest  development  is  found  in  university  teams. 
To  an  American,  this  athletic  life  of  the  college 
will  be  found  of  especial  interest,  for  it  is  the  basis 
of  the  peculiar  wholesomeness  and  moderation  of 
Oxford  sports.  If  the  English  take  their  pleasures 
sadly,  as  they  have  been  charged  with  doing  ever 
since  Froissart  hit  upon  the  happy  phrase,  they 
are  not  so  black  a  pot  but  that  they  are  able  to 
call  us  blacker ;  in  the  light  of  international  con^ 
tests,  they  have  marveled  at  the  intensity  with 
which  our  sportsmen  pursue  the  main  chance.  The 
difference  here  has  a  far  deeper  interest  than  the 
critic  of  boating  or  track  athletics  often  realizes. 
Like  the  songs  of  a  nation,  its  sports  have  a  defi- 
nite relation  to  its  welfare :  one  is  tempted  to  say, 
Let  me  rule  the  games  of  my  countrymen  and  who 
will  may  frame  their  laws.  At  least,  I  hope  to 
81 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

be  pardoned  if  I  speak  with  some  particularity  of 
the  out-of-door  life,  and  neglect  the  lofty  theme 
of  inter-varsity  contests  for  the  humbler  pursuits 
of  the  common  or  garden  undergraduate. 

The  origin  of  the  boating  spirit  is  no  doubt 
what  the  Oxonian  calls  slacking,  for  one  has  to 
learn  to  paddle  in  a  boat  before  he  can  row  to 
advantage  ;  and  in  point  of  fact  the  bumping  races 
are  supposed  to  have  originated  among  parties  of 
slackers  returning  at  evening  from  up  the  river. 
If  I  were  to  try  to  define  what  a  slacker  is,  I  sup- 
pose you  could  answer  that  all  Oxford  men  are 
slackers ;  but  there  are  depths  beneath  depths  of 
far  niente.  The  true  slacker  avoids  the  worry  and 
excitement  of  breakfast  parties  and  three-day 
cricket  matches,  and  conserves  his  energies  by 
floating  and  smoking  for  hours  at  a  time  in  his 
favorite  craft  on  the  Isis  and  the  Cherwell  —  or 
"  Char,"  as  the  university  insists  on  calling  it.  He 
is  a  day-dreamer  of  day-dreamers ;  and  despised  as 
he  is  by  the  more  strenuous  Oxford  men,  who  yet 
stand  in  fear  of  the  fascination  of  his  vices,  he  is 
as  restful  a  figure  to  an  American  as  a  negro  bask- 
ing on  a  cotton-wharf,  and  as  appealing  as  a  beg- 
gar steeped  in  Italian  sunlight.  Merely  to  think 
of  his  uninterrupted  calm  and  his  insatiable  appe- 
tite for  doing  nothing  is  a  rest  to  occidental 
82 


SLACKING 

nerves ;  and  though  one  may  never  be  a  roust- 
about and  loaf  on  a  cotton-wharf,  one  may  at  any 
time  go  to  Oxford  and  play  through  a  summer's 
day  at  slacking. 

Before  you  come  out,  you  must  make  the  ac- 
quaintance of  the  O.  U.  H.  S.  —  that  is,  the  Uni- 
versity Humane  Society.  In  the  winter,  when  there 
is  skating,  the  Humane  Society  man  stands  by  the 
danger  spot  with  a  life-buoy  and  a  rope ;  and  in 
the  summer,  when  the  streams  swarm  with  plea- 
sure-craft, he  wanders  everywhere,  pulling  slackers 
out  of  the  Isis  and  the  Char.  In  view  of  the 
fact  that,  metaphorically  speaking  at  least,  you 
can  shake  hands  with  your  neighbors  across  either 
of  these  streams,  the  Humane  Society  man  is  not 
without  his  humors. 

You  may  get  yourself  a  tub  or  a  working-boat 
or  a  wherry,  a  rob-roy  or  a  dinghy,  for  every  craft 
that  floats  is  known  on  the  Thames ;  but  the  favor- 
ite craft  are  the  Canadian  canoe  and  the  punt. 
The  canoe  you  will  be  familiar  with,  but  your 
ideas  of  a  punt  are  probably  derived  from  a  farm- 
built  craft  you  have  poled  about  American  duck- 
marshes —  which  bears  about  the  same  relation- 
ship to  this  slender,  half-decked  cedar  beauty  that 
a  canal-boat  bears  to  a  racing-shell. 

During  your  first  perilous  lessons  in  punting, 
83 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

you  will  probably  be  in  apprehension  of  ducking 
your  mentor,  who  is  lounging  among  the  cushions 
in  the  bow.  But  you  cannot  upset  the  punt  any 
more  than  you  can  discompose  the  Englishman ; 
the  punt  simply  upsets  you  without  seeming  to  be 
aware  of  it.  And  when  you  crawl  dripping  up  the 
bank,  consoled  only  by  the  fact  that  the  Humane 
Society  man  was  not  at  hand  with  his  boat-hook 
to  pull  you  out  by  the  seat  of  the  trousers,  your 
mentor  will  gravely  explain  how  you  made  your 
mistake.  Instead  of  bracing  your  feet  firmly  on 
the  bottom  and  pushing  with  the  pole,  you  were 
leaning  on  the  pole  and  pushing  with  your  feet. 
When  the  pole  stuck  in  the  clay  bottom,  of  course 
it  pulled  you  out  of  the  boat. 

Steering  is  a  matter  of  long  practice.  When 
you  want  to  throw  the  bow  to  the  left,  you  have 
only  to  prjr  the  stern  over  to  the  right  as  you  are 
pulling  the  pole  out  of  the  water.  To  throw  the 
bow  to  the  right,  ground  the  pole  a  foot  or  so  wide 
of  the  boat,  and  then  lean  over  and  pull  the  boat 
up  to  it.  That  is  not  so  easy,  but  you  will  learn 
the  wrist  motion  in  time.  When  all  this  comes 
like  second  nature,  you  will  feel  that  you  have 
become  a  part  of  the  punt,  or  rather  that  the  punt 
has  taken  life  and  become  a  part  of  you. 

A  particular  beauty  of  punting  is  that,  more 
84 


A  RACING  PUNT  AND  PUNTER 


SLACKING 

than  any  other  sport,  it  brings  you  into  personal 
contact,  so  to  speak,  with  the  landscape.  In  a  few 
days  you  will  know  every  inch  of  the  bottom  of 
the  Char,  some  of  it  perhaps  by  more  intimate 
experience  than  you  desire.  Over  there,  on  the 
outer  curve  of  the  bend,  the  longest  pole  will  not 
touch  bottom.  Fight  shy  of  that  place.  Just 
beyond  here,  in  the  narrows,  the  water  is  so  shal- 
low that  you  can  get  the  whole  length  of  your 
body  into  every  sweep.  As  for  the  shrubbery  on 
the  bank,  you  will  soon  learn  these  hawthorns, 
if  only  to  avoid  barging  into  them.  And  the 
Magdalen  chestnut,  which  spreads  its  shade  so 
beautifully  above  the  water  just  beyond,  becomes 
quite  familiar  when  its  low-reaching  branches  have 
once  caught  the  top  of  your  pole  and  torn  it  from 
your  hands. 

The  slackers  you  see  tied  up  to  the  bank  on 
both  sides  of  the  Char  are  always  here  after 
luncheon.  An  hour  later  their  craft  will  be  as 
thick  as  money-bugs  on  the  water,  and  the  joys  of 
the  slackers  will  be  at  height.  You  won't,  as  a 
rule,  detect  happiness  in  their  faces,  but  it  is  al- 
ways obvious  in  the  name  of  the  craft.  One  manj 
calls  his  canoe  "  Vix  Satis,"  which  is  the  mark  the 
university  examining  board  uses  to  signify  that 
man's  examination  paper  is  a  failure.  Another  has 
85 


n» 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

"  P.  T.  O."  on  his  bows  —  the  "  Please  Turn  Over  * 
which  an  Englishman  places  at  the  bottom  of  a 
card  where  we  say  "  Over."    Still  another  calls  his  a 
canoe  the  "  Non-conformist  Conscience  "  —  which,  \ 
as  you  are  expected  to  remark,  is  very  easily  upset.  * 
All  this  makes  the  slacker  even  happier  than  if  he 
were  so  un-English  as  to  smile  his  pleasure,  for 
he  has  a  joke  ready-made  on  his  bow,  where  there 
is  no  risk  of  any  one's  not  seeing  it. 

These  pollard  willows  that  line  the  bank  are  not 
expected  to  delight  your  eye  at  first  sight,  but  as 
you  see  them  day  after  day,  they  grow  on  you  like 
the  beauty  of  the  bull-terrier  pup  that  looks  at  you 
over  the  gunwale  of  the  boat  tied  beneath  them. 
They  have  been  topped  to  make  their  roots  strike 
deeper  and  wider  into  the  soil,  so  that  when  the 
freshets  come  in  the  spring  the  banks  will  stand 
firm.  The  idea  came  some  centuries  ago  from 
Holland,  but  has  been  so  thoroughly  Englished 
that  the  university,  and,  indeed,  all  England, 
would  scarcely  be  itself  without  its  pollard  willows. 
And  though  the  trees  are  not  in  themselves  grace- 
ful, they  make  a  large  part  of  the  beauty  of  the 
river  scenery.  The  sun  is  never  so  golden  as  ,up 
there  among  their  quivering  leaves,  and  no  shadow 
is  so  deep  as  that  in  the  water  at  their  feet. 

The  bar  of  foam  ahead  of  us  is  the  overflow 


SLACKING 

from  the  lasher  —  that  is  to  say,  from  the  still 
water  above  the  weir.  The  word  "  lasher  "  is  obso- 
lete almost  everywhere  else  in  England,  and  even 
to  the  Oxford  mind  it  describes  the  lashing  over- 
flow rather  than  the  lache  or  slack  water  above. 
When  we  "  shoot  the  lasher,"  as  the  phrase  goes, 
you  will  get  a  hint  as  to  why  the  obsolete  term 
still  clings  to  this  weir.  Those  fellows  beyond 
who  have  tied  up  three  deep  to  the  bank  are 
waiting  to  see  us  get  ducked ;  but  it  is  just  as 
easy  to  shoot  the  lasher  as  to  upset  in  it;  and 
with  that  swarm  of  slackers  watching,  it  makes  a 
difference  which  you  do.  We  have  only  to  get  up 
a  fair  pace  and  run  into  it  on  a  diagonal.  The 
lashing  torrent  will  catch  our  bows,  but  we  shall 
be  half  over  before  it  sweeps  them  quite  around ; 
and  then  it  will  catch  the  stern  in  turn,  and  whirl 
the  bow  back  into  the  proper  direction.  A  sud- 
den lurching  of  the  bow,  the  roaring  of  a  torrent 
beneath,  a  dash  of  spray  —  and  we  are  in  still 
water  again. 

In  order  to  reach  the  inn  at  Marston  by  four  we 
must  pole  on.  If  we  were  true  slackers,  to  be  sure, 
we  should  have  brought  a  spirit  lamp  and  a  basket 
of  tea,  and  tied  up  in  the  first  convenient  nook  on 
the  bank ;  but  these  are  heights  of  slacking  to 
which  the  novice  cannot  aspire.  Just  beyond  here 
87 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

we  shall  have  to  give  the  Thames  Conservancy  man 
threepence  to  roll  the  punt  around  a  weir.  If 
there  were  ladies  with  us,  we  should  have  to  let 
them  walk  a  quarter  of  a  mile  on  shore*  for  just 
above  is  Parson's  Pleasure,  the  university  bath- 
ing-hole; and  these  men,  who  would  not  let  the 
Yale  and  the  Cornell  athletes  appear  in  sleeveless 
"  zephyrs,"  plunge  into  a  frequented  waterway 
without  any  zephyrs  at  all. 

Above  Parson's  Pleasure  we  emerge  from  Meso- 
potamia —  as  the  pretty  river  bottom  is  called  in 
which  the  Char  divides  into  several  channels  — 
and  come  in  sight  of  the  'varsity  cricket-ground. 
There  is  a  game  on  against  a  picked  eleven  from 
the  Marylebone  Club ;  and  every  few  minutes,  if 
we  waited,  we  might  see  the  statuesque  figures  in 
white  flannel  suddenly  dash  after  a  ball  or  trot 
back  and  forth  between  the  wickets.  Few  slackers 
have  had  energy  to  get  beyond  this  point ;  and  as 
we  pole  among  the  meadows,  the  cuckoo's  homely 
voice  emphasizes  the  solitude,  singing  the  same 
two  notes  it  sang  to  Shakespeare  —  and  to  Chaucer 
before  him,  for  the  matter  of  that. 

At  Marston,  having  ordered  tea  of  the  red- 
cheeked  housewife,  it  is  well  to  ask  the  innkeeper 
for  credit.  He  is  a  Parisian,  whose  sociological 
principles,  it  is  said,  were  the  cause  of  his  ventur- 
88 


SLACKING 

ing  across  the  Channel  —  in  Paris,  a  man  will  even 
go  as  far  as  that  for  his  opinions ;  and  while  his 
cheery  English  spouse,  attended  by  troops  of  his 
red-cheeked  boys,  brings  out  the  thin  buttered 
bread,  he  will  revile  you.  What  business  have  you 
to  ask  an  honest  yeoman  to  lend  you  money  ?  If 
he  were  to  go  down  to  Oxford  and  ask  the  first 
gentleman  he  met  to  lend  him  half  a  crown  to  feed 
his  starving  family,  should  he  get  it  ?  Should  he  ? 
And  what  right  have  you  to  come  to  his  house  — 
his  home  !  —  and  demand  food  at  his  board  ?  You 
are  a  gentleman ;  but  what  is  a  gentleman  ?  A 
gentleman  is  the  dregs  of  the  idleness  of  centuries  ! 
Then  he  will  declaim  about  his  plans  for  the  reno- 
vation of  the  world.  All  this  time  his  well-fed 
wife  has  been  pouring  out  the  tea  and  slicing  the 
Genoa  cake ;  and  now,  with  a  smile  of  reassurance, 
she  takes  our  names  and  college.  But  the  inn- 
keeper's eloquence  does  not  flag,  and  it  will  not 
until  you  tell  him  with  decision  that  you  have  had 
enough.  This  you  are  loath  to  do,  for  he  has  fur- 
nished you  with  a  new  ideal  of  happiness.  The 
cotton-wharf  negro  sometimes  wants  leisure,  the 
repose  of  the  cricketer  is  at  times  rudely  broken  in 
upon,  and  even  the  slacker  is  liable  to  his  ducking; 
but  to  stand  up  boldly  against  the  evils  of  the 
world  and  to  picture  the  new  Utopia  while  your 
89 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

wife  averts  all  practical  consequences,  this  is  otium 
cum  dignitate. 

This  journey  up  the  Char,  though  all-popular 
with  the  undergraduate,  is  not  the  only  one  worth 
taking.  We  might  have  gone  down  the  Isis  to  the 
Iffley  Mill  and  the  sleepy  little  Norman  church 
near  by.  This  would  have  taken  us  through  the 
thick  of  the  college  crews  training  for  the  summer 
eights.  But  the  rules  of  the  river  are  so  compli- 
cated that  no  man  on  earth  who  has  not  given 
them  long  hours  of  study  can  understand  them ; 
and  if  an  eight  ran  into  us,  we  should  be  fined  a 
quid  or  two  —  one  quid  for  a  college  eight,  and 
two  for  the  'varsity.  Below  Iffley,  indeed,  there  is 
as  much  clear  punting  as  you  could  desire,  and  here 
you  are  in  the  full  current  of  Thames  pleasure- 
boats.  The  towing-path  skirts  the  water,  so  that 
when  you  are  tired  of  punting  you  can  get  out  and 
tow  your  craft.  The  stretch  of  river  here  I  hold 
memorable  as  the  scene  of  the  only  bit  of  dalliance 
I  ever  witnessed  in  this  most  sentimental  of  en- 
vironments. A  young  man  and  a  young  woman 
had  tied  the  painter  of  their  punt  to  the  middle  of 
a  paddle,  and  shoulder  by  shoulder  were  loitering 
along  the  river-side.  Twenty  yards  behind,  three 
other  men  and  a  baffled  chaperon  were  steering  the 
punt  clear  of  the  bank,  and  boring  one  another. 
90 


SLACKING 

The  best  trip  on  the  Isis  is  into  the  backwaters. 
These  are  a  mesh  of  tiny  streams  that  break  free 
from  the  main ,  current  above  Oxford  and  lose 
themselves  in  the  broad  bottom-lands.  The  islands 
they  form  were  chosen  in  the  Dark  Ages  as  the 
sites  of  religious  houses ;  for  not  only  was  the  land 
fertile,  but  the  network  of  deep,  if  tiny,  streams 
afforded  defense  from  the  heathen,  while  the  main 
channel  of  the  Thames  afforded  communication 
with  the  Christian  world.  The  ruins  of  these,  or 
of  subsequent  monasteries,  remain  to-day  brooding 
over  a  few  Tudor  cottages  and  hamlets,  with  a  mill 
and  a  bakery  and  an  inn  or  two  to  sustain  life  in  the 
occasional  undergraduate  who  lazes  by  in  his  canoe. 

The  most  interesting  of  these  ruins  is  Wytham. 
The  phrase  is  exact,  for  the  entire  hamlet  was 
built  from  a  venerable  religious  house  shortly  after 
the  dissolution  of  the  monasteries.  You  can  im- 
agine the  size  of  Wytham.  If  you  don't  watch 
very  closely  as  you  paddle  up  the  sedgy  backwater, 
you  will  miss  it  entirely,  and  that  would  be  a  pity, 
for  its  rude  masonry,  thatched  roofs,  and  rustic 
garden  fronts  seem  instinct  with  the  atmosphere 
of  Tudor  England.  The  very  tea  roses,  nodding 
languidly  over  the  garden  wall,  smell,  or  seem  to 
smell,  as  subtly  sweet  as  if  they  had  been  pressed 
for  ages  between  the  leaves  of  a  mediaeval  romance. 
91 


AN   AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

I  am  not  quite  sure  that  they  do,  though,  for 
these  ancient  hamlets  have  strange  ways  of  pulling 
the  wool  —  a  true  golden  fleece,  to  be  sure  —  over 
American  eyes.  Once  at  twilight  I  heard  a  knot 
of  strolling  country  men  and  women  crooning  a 
tune  which  was  so  strangely  familiar  that  I  imme- 
diately set  it  down  as  a  village  version  of  one  of 
the  noble  melodies  of  that  golden  age  when  English 
feeling  found  its  natural  vent  in  song.  As  it 
drew  nearer,  I  suddenly  recognized  it.  It  was  a  far- 
away version  of  "  Mammy's  Little  Alabama  Coon." 

I  have  still  faith,  though,  in  a  certain  mediaeval 
barmaid  I  chanced  upon  in  the  backwaters.  The 
circumstances  of  our  meeting  were  peculiar.  As  I 
drifted  along  one  Sunday,  perched  on  an  after- 
thwart  of  the  canoe,  the  current  swept  me  toward 
a  willow  that  leaned  over  the  water,  and  I  put  up 
my  hand  to  fend  off.  I  chanced  to  be  laughing  to 
myself  at  the  time  at  the  thought  of  a  fellow  who, 
only  the  day  before  at  the  lasher,  had  tried  to  do 
the  same  thing.  The  lasher  was  forcing  his  punt 
against  the  willow  on  the  opposite  bank,  where- 
upon, to  my  heart's  delight,  he  lazily  tried  to  fend 
it  off  with  his  arms.  The  punt  refused  to  be 
fended  off,  and  he  stooped  with  an  amusing  effect 
of  deliberation  plump  into  the  water.  He  was 
hauled  out  by  the  O.  U.  H.  S.  man  hard  by. 
92 


SLACKING 

I  was  interrupted  in  these  pleasant  reminis- 
cences by  the  roaring  of  waters  about  my  ears,  min- 
gled with  a  boorish  guffaw  from  one  of  the  fellows 
behind  me.  .  .  .  But  I  started  to  tell  about  the 
mediaeval  barmaid.  Making  my  way  to  a  bake- 
house up  the  stream,  I  hung  my  coat  and  trousers 
before  the  fire  on  a  long  baker's  pote,  and  put 
my  shoes  inside  the  oven  on  a  dough  tray.  My 
companion  of  the  horse-laugh  hung  my  shirt  on 
a  blossoming  almond-tree,  and  then  left  for  the 
lunch  hamper.  He  had  scarcely  gone  when  I 
heard  the  rustle  of  skirts  at  the  door.  "  What 
do  you  want  ?  "  I  cried.  "  I  want  my  dinner," 
was  the  friendly  reply.  It  was  the  barmaid 
of  a  neighboring  public  house,  in  her  Sunday 
frock. 

When  she  saw  me  she  smiled,  but  maintained  a 
dignity  of  port  that  —  I  insist  upon  it  —  was  in- 
stinct with  the  simple  and  primitive  modesty  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  It  was  the  modesty  of  the  people 
before  whom  Adam  in  the  Chester  mystery  play 
was  required  by  the  stage  directions  to  "  stand 
nakyd  and  not  be  ashamyd."  My  barmaid  advised 
me  to  take  off  my  stockings  and  hang  them  up  be- 
fore the  fire.  The  advice  I  admit  came  as  a  shock, 
but  on  reflection  I  saw  that  it  was  capital.  For 
one  happy  moment  I  lived  in  the  broad,  wholesome 
93 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

atmosphere  of  the  Middle  Ages.  It  was  like  a 
breath  from  Chaucer's  England. 

Then  the  baker  rushed  into  the  room,  in  a  cut- 
away Sunday  coat  of  the  latest  style.  He  had 
baked  for  an  Oxford  college  so  long  that  he  had 
become  infected  with  the  squeamish  leaven  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  He  called  the  girl  a  huzzy, 
and,  taking  her  by  the  shoulder,  hustled  her  into 
the  garden,  and  then  passed  her  plum  pudding 
out  to  her  gingerly  through  a  crack  in  the  door. 
He  covered  me  with  apologies  and  a  bath-robe ; 
but  I  did  not  mind  either,  for  as  the  barmaid  ran 
back  to  the  inn  she  was  laughing  what  I  still  insist 
upon  believing  to  have  been  the  simple  joyous 
laughter  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

But  we  must  hurry  to  get  back  to  college  in 
time  for  dinner.  And  even  at  that  we  shall  have 
to  stop  here  at  Magdalen  bridge  and  give  a  street 
boy  sixpence  to  take  the  punt  the  rest  of  the  way. 
We  land  at  the  foot  of  the  tower  just  as  the  late 
afternoon  sun  is  gilding  its  exquisite  pinnacles, 
and  the  chimes  in  its  belfry  are  playing  the  pre- 
lude to  the  hour  of  seven.  It  is  a  melody  worth 
all  the  Char  and  the  Isis,  with  all  their  weirs 
and  their  willows.  Other  mediaeval  chimes  fill 
you  with  a  delicious  sorrow  for  the  past ;  but  when 
they  cease,  and  the  great  bell  tolls  out  the  hour, 
94- 


SLACKING 

you  think  only  of  the  death  of  time.  It  leaves 
you  sadly  beneath  the  tower,  in  the  musty  cellar- 
age. But  the  melody  that  the  Magdalen  chimes 
utter  is  full  of  the  fervid  faith,  the  aspirations,  of 
our  fathers.  It  lifts  you  among  the  gilded  pin- 
nacles, or  perhaps  ever  so  little  above  them. 


95 


II 

AS   SEEN  FROM  AN  OXFORD  TUB 

TO  the  true  slacker,  the  college  barges  that 
line  the  Isis  are  an  object  of  aversion,  for 
into  them  sooner  or  later  every  fellow  who  loves 
the  water  finds  his  way,  and  then  there  is  an  end 
of  slacking.  Each  of  the  barges  is  a  grammar 
school  of  oarsmanship,  where  all  available  men  are 
taught  everything,  from  what  thickness  of  leather 
to  wear  on  the  heels  of  their  boating-shoes  to  the 
rhythm  in  rowing  by  which  alone  an  eight  can 
realize  its  full  speed ;  and  from  the  barges  issues 
a  navy  of  boats  and  boating-men  more  than  ten 
times  as  large  as  that  of  an  American  university. 
When  Mr.  R.  C.  Lehmann  arrived  at  Cambridge 
to  coach  the  Harvard  crew,  he  was  lost  in  admira- 
tion of  the  Charles  River  and  the  Back  Bay,  and 
in  amazement  at  the  absence  of  boats  on  them.  At 
either  Yale  or  Harvard  it  would  be  easy  to  give 
space  to  both  of  the  fleets  that  now  swarm  on  the 
slender  Isis  and  threadlike  Cam.  We  have  water 
enough  —  as  a  Congressman  once  remarked  of  our 
fighting  navy  —  it  is  only  the  boats  that  are  lack- 
96 


AS  SEEN  FROM  AN  OXFORD  TUB 

ing.  The  lesson  we  have  to  learn  of  our  English 
cousins  is  not  so  much  a  matter  of  reach  and 
swing,  outrigger  and  blades,  as  a  generous  and 
wholesome  interest  in  boating  for  the  sake  of  the 
boat  and  of  the  water ;  and  it  is  less  apparent  in 
an  Oxford  'varsity  eight  than  in  the  humblest  tub 
of  the  humblest  college. 

The  first  suggestion  that  I  should  go  out  to  be 
tubbed  came  from  the  gray-bearded  dean  of  the 
college,  who  happened  at  the  time  to  be  taking  me 
to  the  master  for  formal  presentation.  I  told  him 
that  I  had  tried  for  my  class  crew,  and  that  three 
days  on  the  water  had  convinced  the  coach  that  I 
was  useless.  He  fell  a  pace  behind,  looked  me 
over,  and  said  that  I  might  at  least  try.  As  this 
was  his  only  advice,  I  did  not  forget  it ;  and  when 
my  tutor,  before  advising  me  as  to  my  studies,  also 
urged  me  to  row,  I  gave  the  matter  some  serious 
thought. 

I  found  subsequently  that  every  afternoon,  be- 
tween luncheon  and  tea,  the  college  was  virtually 
deserted  for  field,  track,  and  river ;  and  it  dawned 
upon  me  that  unless  I  joined  the  general  exodus  I 
should  temporarily  become  a  hermit.  Still,  my 
earlier  unhappy  experience  in  rowing  was  full  in 
mind,  and  I  set  out  for  the  barge  humble  in  spirit, 
and  prepared  to  be  cursed  roundly  for  three  days, 
97 


AN   AMERICAN  AT   OXFORD 

and    "  kicked   out,"    or,  as   they  say  in   Oxford, 
"  given  the  hoof,"  on  the  fourth. 

Few  memories  could  be  so  unhappy,  however,  as 
to  resist  the  beauty  of  the  banks  of  the  Isis.  At 
New  Haven,  the  first  impression  an  oarsman  gets  is 
said  to  be  an  odor  so  unwelcome  that  it  is  not  to 
be  endeared  even  by  four  years  of  the  good-fellow- 
ship and  companionship  of  a  Yale  crew.  At  Har- 
vard, the  Charles  —  "Our  Charles,"  as  Longfellow 
spoke  of  it  in  a  poem  to  Lowell  —  too  often  presents 
aspects  which  it  would  be  sacrilege  to  dwell  on. 
What  the  "  royal-towered  Thame  "  and  "  Camus, 
reverend  sire,"  may  have  been  in  the  classic  days 
of  English  poetry  it  is  perhaps  safest  not  to  in- 
quire ;  suffice  it  that  to-day  they  are  —  and  espe- 
cially the  Thames  —  all  that  the  uninitiated  ima- 
gine "  our  Charles."  Nowhere  does  the  sun  stream 
more  cheerfully  through  the  moist  gray  English 
clouds ;  nowhere  is  the  grass  more  green,  the  ivy 
more  luxuriant,  and  the  pollard  willows  and  slen- 
der elms  and  poplars  more  dense  in  foliage.  And 
every  building,  from  the  thatched  farm-cottage  in 
Christ  Church  meadow  to  the  Norman  church  at 
Iffley,  is,  as  it  were,  more  native  and  more  a  part 
of  creation  than  the  grass  and  trees.  The  Eng- 
lish oarsman,  it  is  true,  cannot  be  as  conscious  of 
all  this  as  an  American  visitor.  Yet  the  love  of 
98 


AS  SEEN  FROM  AN  OXFORD  TUB 

outdoors,  which  has  been  at  work  for  centuries 
in  beautifying  the  English  landscape,  is  not  the 
least  part  of  the  British  sporting  instinct.  Where 
an  American  might  loiter  in  contemplation  of  these 
woods,  fields,  and  streams,  an  Englishman  shoots, 
hunts,  crickets,  and  rows  in  them. 

When  you  enter  the  barge  on  the  river,  you 
feel  keenly  the  contrast  with  the  bare,  chill  boat- 
houses  of  the  American  universities.  On  the  centre 
tables  are  volumes  of  photographs  of  the  crews  and 
races  of  former  years ;  the  latest  sporting  papers 
are  scattered  on  chairs  and  seats ;  and  in  one  cor- 
ner is  a  writing-table,  with  note-paper  stamped 
"  Balliol  Barge,  Oxford."  There  is  a  shelf  or  two 
of  bound  "  Punches,"  and  several  shelves  of  books 
—  "  Innocents  Abroad  "  and  "  Indian  Summer," 
beside  "  Three  Men  in  a  Boat "  and  "  The  Dolly 
Dialogues."  On  the  walls  are  strange  and  occult 
charts  of  the  bumping  races  from  the  year  one  — 
which,  if  I  remember  rightly,  is  1837.  At  the  far 
end  of  the  room  is  a  sea-coal  fire,  above  which 
shines  the  prow  of  a  shell  in  which  the  college 
twice  won  the  Ladies'  Plate  at  Henley. 

The  dressing-room  of  the  barge  is  sacred  to  the 

members  of  the  eight,  who  at  the  present  season 

are  engaged  in  tubbing  the  freshmen  in  the  hope 

of  finding  a  new  oar  or  two.     At  the  appointed 

99 


AN  AMEEICAN  AT  OXFOED 

hour  they  appear,  in  eightsman  blazers  if  it  is  fair, 
or  in  sou'westers  if  it  is  not  —  sad  to  relate,  it 
usually  is  not  —  and  each  chooses  a  couple  of  men 
and  leads  them  out  to  the  float.  Meanwhile,  with 
the  rest  of  the  candidates  —  freshmen,  and  others 
who  in  past  years  have  failed  of  a  place  in  the 
torpids  —  you  lounge  on  easy-chairs  and  seats, 
reading  or  chatting,  until  your  own  turn  comes  to 
be  tubbed.  It  is  all  quiet  like  a  club,  except  that 
the  men  are  in  full  athletic  dress. 

The  athletic  costume  is  elaborate,  and  has  been 
worn  for  a  generation  —  since  top-hats  and  trousers 
were  abandoned,  in  fact  —  in  more  or  less  its 
present  form.  It  consists  of  a  cotton  zephyr,  flan- 
nel shorts  flapping  about  the  knees,  and  socks,  or 
in  winter  Scotch  hose  gartered  above  the  calves. 
The  sweater,  which,  in  cold  weather,  is  worn  on  the 
river,  has  a  deep  V  neck,  supplemented  when  the 
oarsman  is  not  in  action  by  a  soft  woolen  scarf 
or  cloud.  Over  all  are  worn  a  flannel  blazer  and 
cap  embroidered  with  the  arms  of  the  college. 
This  uniform,  with  trifling  variations,  is  used  in 
all  sports  on  field  and  river,  and  it  is  infinitely 
more  necessary,  in  undergraduate  opinion,  than 
the  academic  cap  and  gown  which  the  rales  of  the 
university  require  to  be  worn  after  dark.  This 
seemingly  elaborate  dress  is  in  effect  the  most 
100 


THE  FULL  COSTUME  OF  AN  EIGHTSMAX 


AS   SEEN  FROM  AN  OXFORD  TUB 

sensible  in  the  world,  and  is  the  best  expression  I 
know  of  the  cheerful  and  familiar  way  in  which  an 
Englishman  goes  about  his  sports.  Reduced  to  its 
lowest  terms,  it  is  no  more  than  is  required  by 
comfort  and  decency.  With  the  addition  of  sweater, 
scarf,  blazer,  and  cap,  it  is  presentable  in  social 
conversation  —  indeed,  in  the  streets  of  the  city. 
It  is  in  consequence  of  this  that  an  afternoon  in 
the  barge  is  —  except  for  the  two  tubbings  on  the 
river  —  so  much  like  one  spent  in  a  club. 

In  America  an  oarsman  wears  socks  and  trunks 
which  are  apt  to  be  the  briefest  possible.  If  he 
wears  a  shirt  at  all,  it  is  often  a  mere  ribbon 
bounding  the  three  enormous  apertures  through 
which  he  thrusts  his  neck  and  shoulders.  Before 
going  on  the  river  he  is  likely  to  shiver,  in  spite  of 
the  collar  of  his  sweater ;  and  after  he  comes  in, 
his  first  thought  is  necessarily  of  donning  street 
clothes.  There  is,  in  consequence,  practically  no 
sociability  in  rowing  until  the  crews  are  selected 
and  sent  to  the  training-table.  A  disciple  of  Sar- 
tor Resartus  would  be  very  likely  to  conclude  that, 
until  American  rowing  adapts  itself  to  the  English 
costume,  it  must  continue  to  be  —  except  for  the 
fortunate  few  —  the  bare,  unkindly  sport  it  has 
always  been. 

All  this  time  I  have  had  you  seated  in  an  arm- 
101 


AN  AMERICAN -AT  OXFOED 

chair  beside  the  sea-coal  fire.  Now  an  eightsman 
comes  into  the  barge  with  two  deep-breathing 
freshmen,  and  nods  us  to  follow  him  to  the  boat 
the  three  have  just  quitted.  On  a  chair  by  the 
door  as  we  go  out  are  several  pads,  consisting  of  a 
rubber  cloth  faced  with  wool.  These  are  spongeo 
pilenes,  or  so  I  was  told,  which  in  English  are 
known  as  Pontius  Pilates  —  or  Pontiuses  for  short. 
The  eightsman  will  advise  you  to  take  a  Pontius  to 
protect  your  white  flannel  shorts  from  the  water 
on  the  seat ;  for  there  is  always  a  shower  threaten- 
ing, unless  indeed  it  is  raining.  Every  one  knows, 
however,  including  the  eightsman,  that  the  wool  is 
a  no  less  important  part  of  the  Pontius  than  the 
rubber :  it  will  save  you  many  painful  impressions 
of  the  dinner  form  in  hall. 

We  are  already  on  the  river,  and  pair-oars, 
fours,  and  eights  are  swarming  about  us.  M  Come 
forward,"  cries  our  coach,  "ready  —  paddle!" 
and  we  take  our  place  in  the  procession  of  craft 
that  move  in  one  another's  wake  down  the  narrow 
river.  The  coach  talks  pleasantly  to  us  from  time 
to  time,  and  in  the  course  of  an  afternoon  we  get  a 
pretty  good  idea  of  what  the  English  stroke  con- 
sists in. 

The  sun  bursts  through  the  pearl-gray  clouds, 
and  glows  in  golden  ponds  on  the  dense  verdure  of 
102 


AS   SEEN  FROM  AN  OXFORD   TUB 

grass  and  trees.  "  Eyes  in  the  boat,"  shouts  the 
stern  voice  of  conscience  ;  but  the  coach  says,  "See, 
fellows.  Here  's  a  Varsity  trial  eight.  Watch 
them  row,  and  you  will  see  what  the  stroke  looks 
like.  Those  fellows  in  red  caps  belong  to  the 
Leander." 

Their  backs  are  certainly  not  all  flat,  and  to  an 
American  eye  the  crew  presents  a  ragged  appear- 
ance as  a  whole ;  but  a  second  glance  shows  that 
every  back  swings  in  one  piece  from  the  hips,  and 
that  the  apparent  raggedness  is  due  to  the  fact 
that  the  men  on  the  bow  side  swing  in  one  line, 
while  those  on  the  stroke  side  swing  in  another 
parallel  line.  They  sway  together  with  absolute 
rhythm  and  ease,  and  the  boat  is  set  on  a  rigidly 
even  keel.  Our  coach  looks  them  over  critically, 
especially  his  three  college-mates,  one  of  whom  at 
least  he  hopes  will  be  chosen  for  the  'varsity  eight. 
No  doubt  he  aimed  at  a  blue  himself  two  years 
ago,  when  he  came  up ;  but  blues  are  not  for  every 
man,  even  of  those  who  row  well  and  strongly. 
He  watches  them  until  they  are  indistinguishable 
amid  the  myriad  craft  in  the  distance.  "  It  's 
jolly  fine  weather,"  he  concludes  pleasantly,  with  a 
familiar  glance  at  the  sky,  which  you  are  at  liberty 
to  follow.  "  Come  forward.  Ready  —  paddle  !  " 
We  are  presently  in  the  barge  again  with  the  other 
103 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

fellows.     A  repetition  of  this  experience  after  half 
an  hour  ends  the  day's  work. 

When  I  tried  for  the  freshman  crew  in  America*, 
I  was  put  with  seven  other  unfortunates  into  a 
huge  clinker  barge,  in  charge  of  the  sophomore 
coxswain.  On  the  first  day  I  was  told  to  mind 
the  angle  on  my  oar.  On  the  second  day  I  was 
told  to  keep  my  eyes  in  the  boat,  damn  me  !  On 
the  third  day,  the  sophomore  coxswain  wrought 
himself  into  a  fury,  and  swore  at  me  for  not  keep- 
ing the  proper  angle.  When  I  glanced  out  at  my 
blade  he  yelled,  "  Damn  you,  eyes  in  the  boat ! " 
This  upset  me  so  that  I  forgot  thereafter  to  keep  a 
flat  back  at  the  finish  of  the  stroke.  When  we 
touched  the  float  he  jumped  out,  looked  at  my 
back,  brought  his  boot  against  it  sharply,  and  told 
me  that  there  was  no  use  in  trying  to  row  unless 
I  could  hold  a  flat  back  and  swing  my  body  be- 
tween my  knees.  That  night  I  sat  on  a  dictionary 
with  my  feet  against  the  footboard  and  tried  to 
follow  these  injunctions,  until  my  back  seemed 
torn  into  fillets,  but  it  would  not  come  flat.  I 
never  went  down  to  the  river  again,  and  it  was 
two  years  before  I  summoned  courage  to  try  an- 
other sport.  The  bullyragging  sophomore  cox- 
swain I  came  to  know  very  well  in  later  years, 
and  found  hkn  as  courteous  and  good-hearted  as 
104 


AS  SEEN  FROM  AN  OXFORD  TUB 

any  man.  To  this  day,  if  I  mention  our  first 
meeting,  he  looks  shy,  and  says  he  does  n't  re- 
member it.  He  says  that  the  flat  back  is  a  dis- 
carded fetish  in  Harvard  boating  circles,  that  even 
before  the  advent  of  Mr.  Lehmann  cursing  and 
kicking  were  largely  abandoned ;  and  moreover 
(fortissimo)  that  the  freshman  crew  he  helped  to 
curse  and  kick  into  shape  was  the  only  one  in  ten 
years  that  won. 

After  a  fortnight's  tubbing  in  pair-oars,  the  bet- 
ter candidates  are  tubbed  daily  in  fours,  and  the 
autumn  races  are  on  the  horizon.  At  the  end  of 
another  week  the  boats  are  finally  made  up,  and 
the  crews  settle  down  to  the  task  of  "  getting  to- 
gether." Each  of  the  fours  has  at  least  one  sea- 
soned oarsman  to  steady  it,  and  is  coached  from 
the  coxswain's  seat  by  a  member  of  the  college 
eight.  Sometimes,  if  the  November  floods  are  not 
too  high,  the  coach  runs  or  bicycles  along  the  tow- 
ing-path, where  he  can  see  the  stroke  in  profile. 
If  a  coach  swears  at  his  men,  there  is  sure  to  have 
been  provocation.  His  favorite  figure  of  speech 
is  sarcasm.  At  the  end  of  a  heart-breaking  burst 
he  will  say,  "  Now,  men,  get  ready  to  row"  or,  "  I 
say,  fellows,  wake  up  ;  canH  you  make  a  differ- 
ence ? "  The  remark  of  one  coach  is  now  a  tra- 
dition —  "  All  but  four  of  you  men  are  rowing 
105 


AN   AMERICAN   AT   OXFORD 

badly,  and  they  're  rowing  damned  badly  1 "  This 
convention  of  sarcasm  is  by  no  means  old.  One 
of  the  notable  personages  in  Eights'  Week  is  a 
little  man  who  is  pointed  out  to  you  as  the  Last 
of  the  Swearing  Coaches.  Tempora  mutantur. 
Perhaps  my  friend  the  ex-coxswain  is  in  line  for 
a  similar  distinction. 

When  the  fours  are  once  settled  in  their  tubs, 
the  stroke  begins  to  go  much  better,  and  the  daily 
paddle  is  extended  so  as  to  be  a  real  test  of 
strength  and  endurance  for  the  new  men,  and  for 
the  man  from  the  torpid  a  brisk  practice  spin. 
Even  at  this  stage  very  few  of  the  new  men  are 
"  given  the  hoof  ;  "  the  patience  of  the  coachers  is 
monumental. 

The  tubbing  season  is  brought  to  an  end  with 
a  race  between  the  fours.  Where  there  are  half  a 
dozen  fours  in  training,  two  heats  of  three  boats 
each  are  rowed  the  first  day,  and  the  finals  be- 
tween the  best  two  crews  on  the  following  day. 
The  method  of  conducting  these  races  is  charac- 
teristic of  boating  on  the  Isis  and  the  Cam.  As 
the  river  is  too  narrow  to  row  abreast,  the  crews 
start  a  definite  distance  apart,  and  row  to  three 
flags  a  mile  or  so  up  the  river,  which  are  exactly 
as  far  apart  as  the  boats  were  at  starting.  At 
each  of  these  flags  an  eightsman  is  stationed.  In 
106 


AS   SEEN   FROM   AN  OXFORD  TUB 

the  races  I  saw  they  flourished  huge  dueling  pis- 
tols, and  when  the  appropriate  crew  passed  the 
flag,  the  appropriate  man  let  off  his  pistol.  The 
crew  that  is  first  welcomed  with  a  pistol-shot  wins. 
These  races  are  less  exciting  than  the  bumping 
races;  yet  they  have  a  picturesque  quality  of  their 
own,  and  they  settle  the  question  of  superiority 
with  much  less  rowing.  The  members  of  the  win- 
ning four  get  each  a  pretty  enough  prize  to  re- 
member the  race  by,  and  the  torpidsman  at  stroke 
holds  the  "  Junior  fours  cup  "  for  the  year. 

The  crowning  event  of  the  season  of  tubbing  is 
a  wine,  to  which  are  invited  all  boating-men  in 
college,  and  the  representative  athletes  in  other 
sports.  In  Balliol  it  is  called  the  "  Morrison 
wine,"  as  the  races  are  called  "  Morrison  fours," 
in  honor  of  an  old  Balliol  man,  a  'varsity  oar  and 
coach,  who  established  the  fund  for  the  prizes. 
The  most  curious  thing  about  this  affair  is  that 
it  is  not  given,  as  it  would  be  in  America,  at  the 
expense  of  the  college,  or  even  of  the  men  who 
have  been  tubbed,  but  at  the  expense  of  those  who 
are  finally  chosen  to  row  in  the  races. 

To  my  untutored  mind  the  hospitality  of  Eng- 
lish boating  seemed  a  pure  generosity.  It  made 
me  uncomfortable  at  first,  with  the  sense  that  I 
could  never  repay  it ;  but  I  soon  got  over  this,  and 
107 


AN   AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

basked  in  it  as  in  the  sun.  The  eightsmen  devote 
their  afternoons  to  coaching  you  because  there  are 
seats  to  be  filled  in  the  torpid  and  in  the  eight ; 
they  speak  decently  because  they  find  that  in  the 
long  run  decency  is  more  effective ;  and  they  hold 
the  wine  because  they  wish  to  honor  the  sport  in 
which  they  have  chosen  to  stake  their  reputations 
as  athletes.  In  a  word,  where  in  America  we  row 
by  all  that  is  self-sacrificing  and  loyal,  in  England 
the  welfare '  of  boating  is  made  to  depend  upon 
its  attractiveness  as  a  recreation  and  a  sport ;  if 
it  were  not  enjoyable  to  the  normal  man,  nothing 
could  force  fellows  into  it. 

The  relationship  of  the  autumn  tubbing  and  its 
incidental  sociability  to  the  welfare  of  the  sport 
in  the  college  and  in  the  university  seems  remote 
enough  to  the  American  mind,  for  out  of  the  score 
of  fellows  who  are  tubbed  only  three  or  four,  on 
an  average,  go  farther  in  the  sport.  Yet  it  is  typi- 
cal of  the  whole  ;  and  it  will  help  us  in  following 
the  English  boating  season.  Throughbut  the  year 
there  are  two  converging  currents  of  activity  in 
boating.  On  the  one  hand,  the  tubs  in  the  au- 
tumn term  develop  men  for  the  torpids,  which 
come  on  during  the  winter  term ;  and  the  torpids 
develop  men  for  the  summer  eights.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  Varsity  trials  in  the  autumn  term 
108 


AS  SEEN  FROM  AN  OXFORD  TUB 

develop  men  for  the  'varsity  eight,  which  trains 
and  races  in  the  winter  term  ;  and  the  'varsity 
oarsmen,  like  the  men  who  have  prospered  in  tubs 
and  torpids,  end  the  season  in  the  eights  of  their 
respective  colleges.  The  goal  of  both  the  novice 
and  the  veteran  is  thus  the  college  eight. 

The  torpid  is,  so  to  speak,  the  understudy  to  the 
college  eight.  In  order  to  give  full  swing  to  the 
new  men,  no  member  of  the  eight  of  the  year 
before  is  allowed  to  row  in  it ;  and  the  leading 
colleges  man  two  torpids  —  sometimes  even  three. 
The  training  here  is  much  more  serious  than  in 
the  tubs ;  wine,  spirits,  and  tobacco  are  out  of 
order.  The  races,  which  are  conducted  like  the 
celebrated  May  Eights,  are  rowed  in  midwinter  — 
in  the  second  of  the  three  Oxford  terms  —  under 
leaden  skies,  and  sometimes  with  snow  piled  up 
along  the  towing-path.  On  the  barges,  instead  of 
the  crowds  of  ladies,  gayly  dressed  and  bent  on 
a  week  of  social  enjoyment,  one  finds  knots  of 
loyal  partisans  who  are  keen  on  the  afternoon's 
sport.  The  towing-path,  too,  is  not  so  crowded  as 
in  May  "Week ;  but  nothing  could  surpass  the  din 
of  pistols  and  rattles  and  shouting  that  accompa- 
nies the  races.  If  the  men  in  the  torpid  do  not 
learn  how  to  row  the  stroke  to  the  finish  under  the 
excitement  of  a  race,  it  is  not  for  the  lack  of 
109 


AN  AMERICAN  AT   OXFORD 

coaching  and  experience.  When  the  torpids  break 
training,  there  are  many  ceremonies  to  signalize 
the  return  to  the  flesh-pots :  one  hardly  realizes 
that  the  weeks  of  sport  and  comradeship  have  all 
gone  to  the  filling  of  a  place  or  two  in  the  college 
eight. 

All  this  time,  while  the  tubs  and  torpids  have 
been  training  up  new  men,  the  'Varsity  Boat  Club, 
whose  home  is  on  the  shore  of  the  Isis  opposite  the 
row  of  college  barges,  has  also,  so  to  speak,  been 
doing  its  tubbing.  The  new  men  for  the  'var- 
sity are  chiefly  those  who  have  come  to  the  front 
in  the  May  Eights  of  the  previous  year  —  oars  of 
two  or  three  seasons'  standing ;  though  occasion- 
ally men  are  taken  directly  from  the  Eton  eight, 
which  enters  yearly  for  the  Ladies'  Plate  at  Hen- 
ley. The  new  men  will  number  ten  or  a  dozen ; 
and  early  in  the  autumn  they  are  taken  out  in 
tubs.  They  are  soon  joined  by  as  many  of  last 
year's  blues  as  are  left  in  Oxford.  The  lot  is 
divided  into  two  eights,  as  evenly  matched  as  pos- 
sible, which  are  coached  separately.  These  are 
called  the  Trial  Eights,  or  'Varsity  Trials.  To 
"get  one's  trials"  is  no  mean  honor.  It  is  the 
sine  qua  non  of  membership  to  the  Leander  — 
admittedly  the  foremost  boating  club  of  the  world. 
Toward  the  end  of  the  first  term  there  is  a  race 
110 


AS  SEEN  FROM  AN  OXFORD  TUB 

of  two  and  a  half  miles  between  the  two  trial 
eights  at  Moulsford,  where  the  Thames  is  wide 
enough  to  permit  the  two  boats  to  race  abreast. 
Of  the  men  who  row  in  the  trials  the  best  ten  or 
a  dozen  are  selected  to  train  for  the  Varsity  dur- 
ing the  winter  term. 

Of  the  training  of  the  'varsity  eight  it  is  not 
necessary  to  speak  here  at  length.  The  signal 
fact  is  that  the  men  are  so  well  schooled  in  the 
stroke,  and  so  accustomed  to  racing,  that  a  season 
of  eight  weeks  at  Oxford  and  at  Putney  is  enough 
to  fit  them  to  go  over  the  four  miles  and  a  quarter 
between  Putney  and  Mortlake  with  the  best  possi- 
ble results.  The  race  takes  place  in  March,  just 
after  the  close  of  the  winter  term. 

The  series  of  races  I  have  mentioned  gives  some 
idea  of  the  scheme  and  scope  of  English  boating, 
but  it  is  by  no  means  exhaustive.  The  strength 
of  the  boating  spirit  gives  rise  to  no  end  of  casual 
and  incidental  races.  Chief  among  these  are  the 
coxswainless  fours,  which  take  place  about  the  mid- 
dle of  the  autumn  term,  while  the  trials  are  on  the 
river.  The  crews  are  from  the  four  or  five  chief 
boating  colleges,  and  are  made  up  largely  from 
the  men  in  the  'varsity  trials.  The  races  have 
no  relation  that  I  could  discover  to  the  'varsity 
race ;  the  only  point  is  to  find  which  college  has 
111 


AN  .^MERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

the  best  four,  and  it  is  characteristic  that  merely 
for  the  sport  of  it  the  training  of  the  'varsity 
trials  is  interrupted. 

After  the  'varsity  race  the  members  of  the  crew- 
rest  during  what  remains  of  the  Easter  vacation, 
and  then  take  their  places  in  the  boats  of  their 
respective  colleges.  Here  they  are  joined  by  the 
other  trials  men,  the  remaining  members  of  last 
year's  college  eight,  and  the  two  or  three  men 
who  have  come  up  from  the  torpids.  Now  begins 
the  liveliest  season  in  boating.  Every  afternoon 
the  river  is  clogged  with  eights  rowing  to  Iffley  or 
to  Sandford,  and  the  towing-path  swarms  with 
enthusiasts.  The  course  in  the  May  bumping 
races  is  a  mile  and  a  quarter  long  —  the  same  as 
the  course  of  the  torpids  —  and  the  crews  race 
over  it  every  day  for  a  week,  with  the  exception  of 
an  intervening  Sunday,  each  going  up  a  place  or 
down  a  place  in  the  procession  daily  according  as 
it  bumps  or  is  bumped.  These  races,  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  expert  oarsman,  are  far  less 
important  than  the  'varsity  race  ;  yet  socially  they 
are  far  more  prominent,  and  the  enthusiasm  they 
arouse  among  the  undergraduates  is  incomparable. 
The  vitality  of  Oxford  is  in  the  colleges  :  the  uni- 
versity organizations  are  the  flowers  of  a  very 
sturdy  root  and  branch. 

112 


AS  SEEN  FEOM  AN  OXFORD  TUB 

The  difference  between  American  and  English 
boating  is  that  we  lack  the  root  and  branches  of 
the  college  system.  In  a  university  of  from  three 
to  four  thousand  men  there  are,  in  addition  to  the 
'varsity  crew,  four  class  crews  and  perhaps  a  few 
scratch  crews.  In  England,  each  of  the  score  of 
colleges,  numbering  on  an  average  something  like 
one  hundred  and  fifty  men  apiece,  mans  innumera- 
ble fours,  one  or  more  eight-oared  torpids,  and  the 
college  eight.  A  simple  calculation  will  show  that 
with  us  one  man  in  fifty  to  seventy  goes  in  for  the 
sport,  while  in  England  the  proportion  is  one  man 
in  five  to  seven. 

The  difference  in  spirit  is  as  great  as  the  dif- 
ference in  numbers.  In  America,  the  sole  idea 
in  athletics,  as  is  proclaimed  again  and  again,  is 
to  beat  the  rival  team.  No  concession  is  made  to 
the  comfort  or  wholesomeness  of  the  sport;  men 
are  induced  to  train  by  the  excellent  if  somewhat 
grandiose  sentiment  that  they  owe  it  to  the  univer- 
sity to  make  every  possible  sacrifice  of  personal 
pleasure.  Our  class  crews,  which  have  long  ceased 
to  represent  any  real  class  rivalry,  are  maintained 
mainly  in  the  hope  of  producing  'varsity  materials 
The  result  of  these  two  systems  is  curiously  at 
variance  with  the  intention.  At  Oxford,  where 
rowing  is  very  pleasant  indeed,  and  where  for 
113 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

the  greater  part  of  the  year  the  main  interest 
centres  in  college  crews,  the  'varsity  reaches  a  high 
degree  of  perfection,  and  the  oarsmen,  without 
quite  being  aware  of  the  fact,  represent  their  uni- 
versity very  creditably ;  while  at  Yale,  and  until 
recently  at  Harvard,  the  subsidiary  crews  have 
been  comparative  failures  in  producing  material, 
and  the  'varsity  is  in  consequence  somewhat  in  the 
position  of  an  exotic,  being  kept  alive  merely  by 
the  stimulus  of  inter-varsity  rivalry. 

The  recent  improvement  at  Harvard  is  due  to 
Mr.  Rudolph  C.  Lehmann,  the  celebrated  Cam- 
bridge and  Leander  oar  who  coached  the  Harvard 
crews  of  1897  and  1898,  in  the  sportsmanlike 
endeavor  to  stimulate  a  broader  and  more  expert 
interest  in  boating.  His  failure  to  bring  either  of 
the  crews  to  victory,  which  to  so  many  of  us  sig- 
nified the  utter  failure  of  his  mission,  has  had 
more  than  a  sufficient  compensation  in  the  fact  that 
he  established  at  Harvard  something  like  the  Eng- 
lish boating  system.  Anything  strictly  similar  to 
the  torpids  and  eights  is  of  course  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, because  we  have  no  social  basis  such  as  the 
colleges  afford  for  rivalry  in  boating  ;  but  the  lack 
of  colleges  has  in  a  measure  been  remedied  by 
creating  a  factitious  rivalry  between  improvised 
boating  clubs,  and  the  system  of  torpids  and  eights 
114 


AS  SEEN  FROM  AN  OXFORD  TUB 

has  been  crudely  imitated  in  the  so-called  graded 
crews.  A  season  of  preliminary  racing  has  thus 
been  established,  on  the  basis  of  which  the  can- 
didates for  the  'varsity  crew  are  now  selected,  so  that 
instead  of  the  nine  months  of  slogging  in  the  tank 
and  on  the  river,  in  which  the  more  nervous  and 
highly  organized  candidates  were  likely  to  succumb 
and  the  stolid  men  to  find  a  place  in  the  boat,  the 
eight  is  made  up  as  at  Oxford  of  those  who  have 
shown  to  best  advantage  in  a  series  of  spirited  races. 
Crude  as  the  new  Harvard  system  is  as  compared 
with  the  English  system,  it  has  already  created  a 
true  boating  spirit,  and  has  trained  a  large  body 
of  men  in  the  established  stroke,  placing  the  sport 
at  Harvard  on  a  sounder  basis  than  at  any  other 
American  university.  It  has  thus  been  of  infinitely 
more  advantage,  by  the  potentiality  of  an  example, 
than  any  number  of  victories  at  New  London.  To 
realize  the  full  benefit  of  the  system  of  graded 
crews  and  preliminary  races,  it  is  only  necessary 
to  supersede  the  arbitrary  and  meaningless  division 
into  clubs  by  organizations  after  the  manner  of 
English  colleges  which  shall  represent  something 
definite  in  the  general  life  of  the  university. 


115 


Ill 

A  LITTLE  SCRIMMAGE  WITH  ENGLISH  RUGBY 

THE  relationship  between  the  colleges  and  the 
university  exists  in  a  greater  or  less  degree 
in  all  sports.  There  is  a  series  of  matches  among 
the  leading  colleges  in  cricket,  and  a  "  cup  tie  "  in 
Association  football.  These  sports  are  almost  as 
popular  as  rowing,  and  have  many  excellences 
which  it  would  be  pleasant  to  point  out  and  pro- 
fitable perhaps  to  emulate ;  but  it  seems  best  to 
concentrate  attention  on  the  sports  which  are  best 
understood  in  America,  such  as  Rugby  football  and 
athletics.  The  workings  of  the  college  system  may 
be  most  clearly  seen  in  them,  and  the  spirit  of 
English  sportsmanship  most  sympathetically  ap- 
preciated. 

The  rivalry  between  the  Association  and  the 
Rugby  games  has  made  English  football  players 
quite  unexpectedly  sensitive  to  comparisons.  I 
had  scarcely  set  foot  upon  a  Rugby  field  when 
I  was  confronted  with  the  inevitable  question  as 
to  English  Rugby  and  American.  I  replied  that 
from  a  hasty  judgment  the  English  game  seemed 
116 


ENGLISH  RUGBY 

haphazard  and  inconsequent.  '*  We  don't  kill  one 
another,  if  that  's  what  you  mean  by  'inconse- 
quent,' "  my  companion  replied ;  and  I  soon  found 
that  a  report  that  two  players  had  been  killed  in 
the  Thanksgiving  Day  match  of  the  year  before 
had  never  been  contradicted  in  England.  "  That 
is  the  sport,"  my  friend  continued,  "  which  Caspar 
Whitney  says,  in  his  *  Sporting  Pilgrimage,'  has  im- 
proved English  Rugby  off  the  face  of  the  earth  !  " 

The  many  striking  differences  between  English 
and  American  Rugby  arise  out  of  the  features  of 
our  game  known  as  "  possession  of  the  ball "  and 
"  interference."  In  the  early  days  of  the  Ameri- 
can game,  many  of  the  most  sacred  English  tradi- 
tions were  unknown,  and  the  wording  of  the  Eng- 
lish rules  proved  in  practice  so  far  from  explicit 
that  it  was  not  possible  to  discover  what  it  meant, 
much  less  to  enforce  the  rules. 

One  of  the  traditions  favored  a  certain  com- 
parative mildness  of  demeanor.  The  American 
players,  on  the  contrary,  favored  a  campaign  of 
personal  assault  for  which  the  general  rules  of  the 
English  scrummage  lent  marked  facilities.  It  soon 
became  necessary  in  America  to  line  the  men  up 
in  loose  order  facing  each  other,  and  to  forbid  vio- 
lent personal  contact  until  the  actual  running  with 
the  ball  should  begin.  This  clearly  made  it  neces- 
117 


AN  AMERICAN   AT  OXFORD 

sary  that  the  sides  should  in  turn  put  the  ball 
in  play,  and  consequently  should  alternately  have 
possession  of  it.  Under  this  arrangement,  each 
side  is  in  turn  organized  on  the  offensive  and  the 
defensive. 

The  upshot  of  this  was  that  the  forwards,  who 
in  the  parent  English  game  have  only  an  incidental 
connection  with  the  running  of  the  backs,  become 
a  part  of  each  successive  play,  opening  up  the  way 
for  the  progress  of  the  ball.  According  to  the  Eng- 
lish code,  this  made  our  forwards  off-side,  so  that 
the  rule  had  to  be  changed  to  fit  the  new  practice. 
It  then  appeared  that  if  the  forwards  could  play 
ahead  of  the  ball,  the  backs  could  do  so  too ;  and 
here  you  have  the  second  great  American  feature. 
The  result  of  "  possession  "  of  the  ball  and  "  inter- 
ference "  is  an  elaborate  and  almost  military  code 
of  tactics  unknown  in  the  English  game. 

In  the  course  of  time  I  had  unusual  facilities  for 
observing  English  Rugby.  During  the  Morrison 
wine  which  ended  the  season  of  tubbing  on  the 
river,  the  captain  of  the  Balliol  fifteen  threw  his 
arms  about  me,  and  besought  me  to  play  on  the 
team.  He  had  not  a  single  three-quarters,  he  said, 
who  could  get  out  of  his  own  way  running.  I 
pleaded  an  attack  of  rheumatism  and  ignorance  of 
the  game.  He  said  it  did  not  matter.  "  And  I  'm 
118 


v 

ENGLISH 

half  blind,"  I  added.  "  So  am  I,"  he  interrupted, 
"  but  we '11  both  be  all  right  in  the  morning."  I 
said  I  referred  to  the  fact  that  I  was  very  near- 
sighted ;  but  he  took  all  excuses  as  a  sign  of  re- 
sentment because  he  had  failed  to  invite  me  to 
breakfast  in  my  freshman  term  ;  he  appeared  to 
think  it  his  duty  to  breakfast  all  possible  candi- 
dates. Such  are  the  courtesies  of  an  English  cap- 
tain, and  such  are  the  informalities  of  English 
training. 

The  next  morning  the  captain  wrote  me  that 
there  was  a  match  on  against  Merton,  and  asked 
me  to  come  out  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  the 
rest  for  a  little  coaching.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  to 
learn  to  play  football !  In  spite  of  the  captain's 
predictions  of  the  night  before,  I  was  not  so  sure 
that  he  was  yet  "  all  right ; "  so  I  went  out  to 
the  porter's  lodge  and  scanned  the  bulletin  board. 
My  name  stared  me  in  the  face.  I  had  scarcely 
time  to  take  luncheon  and  don  a  pair  of  football 
shorts. 

The  practice  my  coach  gave  me  consisted  in  run- 
ning the  length  of  the  field  three  or  four  times, 
passing  the  ball  back  and  forth  as  we  went.  His 
instructions  with  regard  to  the  game  were  equally 
simple.  To  keep  in  proper  position  I  had  only  to 
watch  my  Merton  vis-a-vis  and  take  a  place  sym- 
119 


AN  AMERICAN  AT   OXFORD 

metrical  with  his.  When  the  enemy  heeled  the 
ball  out  of  the  "  scrummage  "  to  their  quarter-back, 
putting  us  for  the  moment  on  the  defensive,  I  was 
to  watch  my  man,  and,  if  the  ball  was  passed 
to  him,  to  tackle  him.  If  he  passed  it  before  I 
could  tackle  him  I  was  still  to  follow  him,  leaving 
the  man  who  took  the  ball  to  be  watched  by  my 
neighbor,  in  order  that  I  might  be  on  hand  if  my 
man  received  it  again.  An  American  back,  when 
his  side  is  on  the  defensive,  is  expected  to  keep  his 
eye  on  his  vis-a-vis  while  the  ball  is  being  snapped 
back  ;  but  his  main  duty  is  to  follow  the  ball.  An 
English  back  under  similar  circumstances  is  ex- 
pected only  to  follow  his  man.  If  our  side  hap- 
pened to  heel  out  the  ball  from  the  scrum  and  one 
of  our  three-quarters  began  to  run  with  it,  we  were 
on  the  offensive,  and  the  other  three-quarters  and 
I  were  to  follow  at  his  heels,  so  that  when  he  was 
about  to  be  tackled  —  "  collared,"  the  English  say 
—  he  could  pass  it  on  to  us.  There  is,  as  I  have 
said,  no  such  thing  as  combined  "  interference  " 
among  the  backs.  A  player  who  gets  between  the 
man  with  the  ball  and  the  enemy's  goal  is  rankly 
off-side.  It  is  not  to  be  understood  that  the  cap- 
tain coached  all  this  information  into  me.  I  had 
to  buttonhole  him  and  pump  it  out  word  by  word. 
Coaching  of  any  sort  is  all  but  unknown  on  Eng- 
120 


ENGLISH  RUGBY 

lish  football  fields.  What  there  is  of  the  game 
is  learned  at  school  —  or  in  the  nursery  ! 

When  the  opposing  teams  scattered  over  the 
field  for  the  kick-off,  I  noticed  with  satisfaction 
that  there  was  not  a  spectator  on  the  grounds  to 
embarrass  me.  It  is  so  in  almost  all  English  col- 
lege games  —  the  fellows  are  more  than  likely  to 
have  sports  of  their  own  on,  and  anyway,  what  is 
the  use  in  hanging  round  the  fields  where  other 
fellows  are  having  all  the  fun  ? 

On  the  kick-off,  luckily,  the  ball  did  not  come 
to  my  corner  of  the  field,  for  I  could  scarcely  have 
seen  it,  much  less  caught  it.  Our  side  returned 
the  kick  and  the  "  scrum  "  formed.  The  nine  for- 
wards gathered  compactly  in  a  semi-ellipse,  bent 
their  bodies  together  in  a  horizontal  plane,  with 
their  heads  carefully  tucked  beneath  the  mass,  and 
leaned  against  the  opposing  mass  of  forwards,  who 
were  similarly  placed.  When  the  two  scrums  were 
thoroughly  compacted,  the  umpire  tossed  the  ball 
on  the  ground  beneath  the  opposing  sets  of  legs, 
whereupon  both  sides  began  to  struggle.  The 
scrum  in  action  looks  like  a  huge  tortoise  with 
a  score  of  legs  at  each  end,  which  by  some  unac- 
countable freak  of  nature  are  struggling  to  walk 
in  opposite  directions.  The  sight  is  certainly  awe- 
inspiring,  and  it  was  several  days  before  I  realized 
121 


AN  AMEKICAN  AT  OXFOKD 

that  it  masked  no  abstrusely  working  tactics ;  there 
is  little,  if  anything,  in  it  beyond  the  obvious  grunt- 
ing and  shoving. 

The  backs  faced  each  other  in  pairs  ranged  out 
on  the  side  of  the  scrum  that  afforded  the  broader 
field  for  running.  The  legs  in  the  Balliol  scrum 
pushed  harder  and  the  bodies  squirmed  to  more 
advantage,  for  our  men  had  presently  got  the  ball 
among  their  feet.  They  failed  to  hold  it  there, 
however,  and  it  popped  out  into  a  half-back's 
hands.  He  passed  it  quickly  to  one  of  my  com- 
panions at  three-quarters,  who  dodged  his  man 
and  ran  toward  the  corner  of  the  field.  I  followed, 
and  just  as  the  full-back  collared  him  he  passed 
the  ball  to  me.  Before  I  had  taken  three  rheu- 
matic strides  I  had  two  men  hanging  at  my  back  ; 
but  when  they  brought  me  down,  the  ball  was  just 
beyond  the  line.  The  audience  arose  as  one  man 
—  to  wit,  the  referee,  who  had  been  squatting  on 
the  side  lines  —  and  shouted,  "  Played.  Well 
played !  "  I  had  achieved  universal  fame.  Dur- 
ing the  rest  of  the  game  the  Balliol  scrum,  which 
was  a  very  respectable  affair  of  its  kind,  kept  the 
ball  to  itself,  while  we  backs  cooled  our  heels. 

A  few  days  later,  in  a  game  against  Jesus,  the 
scrums  were  more  evenly  matched,  and  the  ball 
was  heeled  out  oftener.  I  soon  found  that  my 
^       122 


ENGLISH  EUGBY 

eyes  were  not  sharp  enough  to  follow  quick  pass- 
ing ;  and  when,  just  before  half-time,  a  punt  came 
in  my  direction,  I  was  horrified  to  see  the  ball  mul- 
tiply until  it  looked  like  a  flock  of  balloons.  As 
luck  had  it,  I  singled  out  the  wrong  balloon  to 
catch.  Jesus  fell  on  the  ball  just  as  it  bounced 
over  the  goal-line.  In  the  second  half  the  captain 
put  one  of  the  forwards  in  my  place,  and  put  me 
in  the  scrum. 

The  play  here  was  more  lively,  though  scarcely 
more  complex  or  difficult.  Each  forward  stuck 
his  head  beneath  the  shoulders  of  the  two  men  in 
front  of  him,  grasped  their  waists,  and  then  heaved, 
until,  when  the  ball  popped  out  of  the  scrum,  the 
word  came  to  dissolve.  There  were  absolutely  no 
regular  positions ;  the  man  who  was  in  the  front 
centre  of  one  scrummage  might  be  in  the  outskirts 
of  the  next.  On  some  teams,  I  found,  by  inquiry, 
a  definite  order  is  agreed  on,  but  this  is  regarded 
as  of  doubtful  advantage. 

When  the  umpire  or  a  half-back  tosses  the  ball 
into  the  scrummage,  there  are,  at  an  ultimate  analy- 
sis, four  things  that  can  happen.  First,  the  two 
sides  may  struggle  back  and  forth,  carrying  the 
ball  on  the  ground  at  their  feet ;  this  play  is  called  a 
"  pack."  Second,  the  stronger  side  may  cleave  the 
weaker,  and  run  down  the  field,  dribbling  the  ball 
123 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

yard  by  yard  as  they  go,  until  either  side  picks  it 
up  for  a  run,  or  else  drops  on  it  and  cries  "  down." 
Third,  one  side  may  be  able  to  "  screw  the  scrum," 
a  manoeuvre  which  almost  rises  to  the  altitude  of 
a  "  play."  The  captain  shouts  "  Right !  "  or  per- 
haps "  Left !  "  and  then  his  forwards  push  diago- 
nally, instead  of  directly,  against  their  opponents. 
The  result  is  very  like  what  we  used  to  call  a 
revolving  wedge,  except  that,  since  the  ball  is  car- 
ried on  the  ground,  the  play  eventuates,  when  suc- 
cessful, in  a  scattering  rush  of  forwards  down  the 
field,  dribbling  the  ball  at  their  feet,  just  as  when 
the  scrum  has  been  cloven.  The  fourth  possibility 
is  that  the  side  that  gets  the  ball  amongst  its 
eighteen  legs  allows  it  to  ooze  out  behind,  or,  if  its 
backs  are  worthy  of  confidence,  purposely  heels  it 
out.  Thereupon  results  the  play  I  have  already 
described :  one  of  the  half-backs  pounces  upon  it 
and  passes  it  deftly  to  the  three-quarters,  who  run 
with  it  down  the  field,  if  necessary  passing  it  back 
and  forth.  In  plays  which  involve  passing  or  drib- 
bling, English  teams  sometimes  reach  a  very  high 
degree  of  skill :  few  sights  on  the  football  field 
are  more  inspiring  than  to  see  a  "  combination " 
of  players  rush  in  open  formation  among  their 
opponents,  shifting  the  ball  from  one  to  another 
with  such  rapidity  and  accuracy  as  to  elude  all 
124 


ENGLISH  RUGBY 

attempts  to  arrest  it.  As  a  whole,  the  game  of  the 
forwards  is  much  more  fun  than  that  of  the  backs, 
though  decidedly  less  attractive  in  the  eyes  of  the 
spectators  —  a  consideration  of  slight  importance 
on  an  English  field  ! 

Just  as  I  began  to  get  warmed  to  my  new  work 
I  smashed  my  nose  against  the  head  of  a  Balliol 
man  who  was  dodging  back  into  the  push.  The 
captain  told  me  that  I  need  not  finish  the  game  ; 
but  as  it  is  against  the  English  rules  to  substitute 
players  and  we  were  still  far  from  sure  of  winning, 
I  kept  to  my  grunting  and  shoving.  At  the  end 
of  the  game  the  captain  very  politely  gave  me  the 
hoof.  This  was  just  what  I  expected  and  deserved  ; 
but  I  was  surprised  to  find  that  the  fellows  had 
objected  to  my  playing  the  game  through  with  a 
bloody  nose.  They  would  have  preferred  not  to 
be  bled  upon. 

This  regard  for  pleasantness  and  convenience, 
which  to  an  American  is  odd  enough,  is  character- 
istic even  of  'varsity  football.  The  slenderness  of 
the  preliminary  training  of  a  Varsity  fifteen  is  in- 
credible to  any  American  who  has  not  witnessed 
it.  To  sift  the  candidates  there  is  a  freshman 
match  and  a  senior  match,  with  perhaps  one  or 
two  "  squashes  "  —  that  is  to  say,  informal  games 
—  besides.  And  even  these  tests  are  largely  a 
125 


AN   AMERICAN  AT   OXFORD 

matter  of  form.  Men  are  selected  chiefly  on  their 
public  school  reputations  or  in  consequence  of 
good  work  on  a  college  fifteen.  The  process  of 
developing  players,  so  familiar  to  us,  is  unknown. 
There  is  no  coaching  of  any  kind,  as  we  under- 
stand the  word.  When  a  man  has  learned  the 
game  at  his  public  school  or  in  his  college,  he  has 
learned  it  for  all  time,  though  he  will,  of  course, 
improve  by  playing  for  the  university.  The  need 
of  concentrated  practice  is  greatly  lessened  by  the 
fact  that  the  soft  English  winter  allows  as  long  a 
season  of  play  as  is  desired.  The  team  plays  a 
game  or  two  a  week  against  the  great  club  teams 
of  England  —  Blackheath,  Richmond,  London 
Scottish,  Cardiff,  Newport,  and  Huddersfield  — 
with  perhaps  a  bit  of  informal  kicking  and  punt- 
ing between  times.  When  the  weather  is  too  bad, 
it  lays  off  entirely. 

All  this  does  not  conduce  to  the  strenuousness 
of  spirit  Americans  throw  into  their  sports.  In  an 
inter-varsity  match  I  saw  the  Oxford  team  which 
was  fifty  per  cent,  better  allow  itself  to  be  shoved 
all  over  the  field  :  it  kept  the  game  a  tie  only  by 
the  rarest  good  fortune.  It  transpired  later  that 
the  gayeties  of  Brighton,  whither  the  team  had 
gone  to  put  the  finishing  touches  on  its  training, 
had  been  too  much  for  it.  In  an  American  uni- 
126 


ENGLISH  RUGBY 

versity  such  laxity  would  be  thought  the  lowest 
depth  of  unmanliness,  but  I  could  not  see  that  any 
one  at  Oxford  really  resented  it ;  at  most  it  was  a 
subject  for  mild  sarcasm.  You  can't  expect  a  team 
to  be  in  the  push  everywhere  ! 

This  lack  of  thorough  preparation  is  even  more 
characteristic  of  the  international  teams  —  Eng- 
land, Ireland,  Scotland,  and  Wales  —  that  yearly 
play  for  the  championship  of  Great  Britain.  They 
are  chosen  from  the  most  brilliant  players  in  the 
leading  clubs,  and  local  jealousy  makes  the  task  of 
choosing  most  delicate.  The  temptation  is  to  take 
a  man  or  two  impartially  from  each  of  the  great 
fifteens.  As  the  international  teams  take  little  or 
no  practice  as  a  whole,  the  tendency  in  the  great 
games  is  to  neglect  the  finer  arts  of  dribbling  and 
passing  in  combination  —  the  art8  for  which  each 
player  was  severally  chosen  —  and  revert  to  the 
primitive  grunting  and  shoving.  In  the  great 
games,  accordingly,  the  team  which  is  man  for  man 
inferior  as  regards  the  fine  points  may  prevail  by 
sheer  strength,  so  that  the  result  is  liable  to  be 
most  unsatisfactory.  Some  years  ago,  owing  to 
local  jealousy,  the  Welsh  international  had  to  be 
chosen  mainly  from  a  single  club  —  with  the  result 
that  it  won  the  championship  ;  and  in  1901  the 
canny  Scotch  team  won  by  intentionally  selecting 
127 


AN   AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

its  members,  in  spite  of  local  jealousy,  on  the  score 
of  their  familiarity  with  one  another's  play. 

The  very  rules  under  which  the  game  is  played 
are  calculated  to  moderate  the  struggle.  As  a 
result  of  the  rule  against  substituting,  to  which  I 
have  referred,  any  extreme  of  hard  play  in  the 
practice  games,  such  as  lays  off  dozens  of  good 
American  players  yearly,  is  not  likely  to  be  en- 
couraged. Of  course  good  men  "  crock,"  as  they 
call  it ;  but  where  an  injury  is  practically  certain 
to  disqualify  a  man  from  the  inter-varsity  match, 
the  football  limp  and  the  football  patch  can 
scarcely  be  regarded  as  the  final  grace  of  athletic 
manhood.  Willful  brutality  is  all  but  unknown  ; 
the  seriousness  of  being  disqualified  abets  the  nor- 
mal English  inclination  to  play  the  game  like  a 
person  of  sense  and  good  feeling.  The  physical 
effect  of  the  sport  is  to  make  men  erect,  lithe, 
and  sound.  And  the  effect  on  the  nervous  system 
is  similar.  The  worried,  drawn  features  of  the 
American  player  on  the  eve  of  a  great  contest  are 
unknown.  An  Englishman  could  not  understand 
how  it  has  happened  that  American  players  have 
been  given  sulphonal  during  the  last  nights  of 
training.  English  Rugby  is  first  of  all  a  sport, 
an  exercise  that  brings  manly  powers  into  play  ; 
as  Hamlet  would  say,  the  play  's  the  thing.  It  is 
128 


ENGLISH  RUGBY 

eminently  an  enjoyable  pastime,  pleasant  to  watch, 
and  more  pleasant  to  take  part  in. 

That  our  American  game  is  past  hoping  for  on 
the  score  of  playability  is  by  no  means  certain. 
As  the  historical  critics  of  literature  are  fond  of 
saying,  a  period  of  rapid  development  is  always 
marked  by  flagrant  excesses,  and  the  development 
of  modern  American  football  has  been  of  astonish- 
ing rapidity.  Quite  often  the  game  of  one  season 
has  been  radically  different  from  the  games  of  all 
preceding  seasons.  This  cannot  continue  always, 
for  the  number  of  possible  variations  is  obviously 
limited,  and  when  the  limit  is  reached  American 
Rugby  will  be,  like  English  Rugby,  the  same  old 
game  year  in  and;year  out.  Everybody,  from  the 
youngest  prep,  to  the  oldest  grad.,  will  know  it 
and  love  it. 

The  two  vital  points  in  which  our  game  differs 
from  the  English  —  "  possession  of  the  ball  "  and 
"  interference  "  —  are  both  the  occasion  of  vigorous 
handling  of  one's  opponents.  When  an  American 
player  is  tackled,  he  seldom  dares  to  pass  the  ball 
for  fear  of  losing  possession  of  it,  so  that  our  rule 
is  to  tackle  low  and  hard,  in  order  to  stop  the  ball 
sharply,  and  if  possible  to  jar  it  out  of  the  runner's 
grasp.  In  England,  it  is  still  fair  play  to  grab  a 
man  by  the  ankle.  This  is  partly  because  of  the 
129 


AN   AMERICAN   AT   OXFORD 

softness  of  the  moist  thick  English  turf ;  but  more 
largely  because,  as  passing  is  the  rule,  the  tackier 
in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  aims  at  the  ball.  The 
result  is  that  a  man  is  seldom  slammed  to  the 
earth  as  he  would  be  in  our  game.  It  is  this  fact 
that  enables  the  English  player  to  go  bare-kneed. 

The  danger  from  interference  in  the  American 
game  is  also  considerable.  When  a  man  is  blocked 
off,  he  is  liable  to  be  thrown  violently  upon  the  far 
from  tender  bosom  of  our  November  mother-earth. 
Any  one  familiar  with  the  practice  of  an  American 
eleven  will  remember  the  constant  cry  of  the 
coaches  :  "  Knock  your  man  on  the  ground  !  Put 
him  out  of  the  play  !  "  It  has  been  truly  enough 
said  that  the  American  game  has  exaggerated  the 
most  dangerous  features  of  the  two  English  games 
—  the  tackling  of  English  Rugby  and  the  "  charg- 
ing'' or  body-checking  of  the  Association  game. 

Yet  this  is  only  a  partial  statement  of  the  case. 
These  elements  of  possession  of  the  ball  and  inter- 
ference have  raised  our  game  incalculably  above 
the  English  game  as  a  martial  contest.  Whereas 
English  Rugby  has  as  yet  advanced  very  little  be- 
yond its  first  principles  of  grunting  and  shoving, 
the  American  game  has  always  been  supreme  as 
a  school  and  a  test  of  courage ;  and  it  has  always 
tended,  albeit  with  some  excesses,  toward  an  in- 
130 


ENGLISH  RUGBY 

comparably  high  degree  of  skill  and  strategy. 
Since  American  football  is  still  in  a  state  of  tran- 
sition, it  is  only  fair  to  judge  the  two  games  by 
the  norm  to  which  they  are  severally  tending.  The 
Englishman  has  on  the  whole  subordinated  the 
elements  of  skill  in  combination  to  the  pleasant- 
ness of  the  sport,  while  the  American  has  some- 
what sacrificed  the  playability  of  the  game  to  his 
insatiate  struggle  for  success  and  his  inexhaust- 
ible ingenuity  in  achieving  it.  More  than  any 
other  sport,  Rugby  football  indicates  the  divergent 
lines  along  which  the  two  nations  are  developing. 
By  preferring  either  game  a  man  expresses  his 
preference  for  one  side  of  the  Atlantic  over  the 
other. 


131 


IV 

TRACK  AND  FIELD  ATHLETICS 

IN  track  and  field  athletics,  the  pleasantness  and 
informality  of  English  methods  of  training 
reach  a  climax.  In  America  we  place  the  welfare 
of  our  teams  in  the  hands  of  a  professional  trainer, 
who,  through  his  aide-de-camp,  the  undergraduate 
captain,  is  apt  to  make  the  pursuit  of  victory  pretty 
much  a  business.  Every  autumn  newcomers  are 
publicly  informed  that  it  is  their  duty  to  the  uni- 
versity to  train  for  the  freshman  scratch  games. 
At  Oxford,  I  was  surprised  to  find,  there  was  not 
only  no  call  for  candidates,  but  no  trainer  to  whom 
to  apply  for  aid.  The  nearest  approach  to  it  was 
the  groundsman  at  the  Iflfley  Kunning  Grounds,  a 
retired  professional  who  stoked  the  boilers  for  the 
baths,  rolled  the  cinder-path,  and  occasionally  acted 
as  "starter."  As  his  "professional"  reputation  as 
a  trainer  was  not  at  stake  in  the  fortunes  of  the 
Oxford  team,  his  attitude  was  humbly  advisory. 
The  president  of  the  Athletic  Club  never  came  near 
the  grounds,  being  busy  with  rowing  on  a  'varsity 
trial  eight,  and  later  with  playing  Association  foot- 
132 


TRACK  AND  FIELD  ATHLETICS 

ball  for  the  university.  To  one  accustomed  to 
train  not  only  for  the  glory  of  his  alma  mater  but 
for  the  reputation  of  his  trainer,  the  situation  was 
uninspiring. 

As  I  might  have  expected,  the  impetus  to  train 
came  from  the  college.  I  was  rescued  from  a  fit 
of  depression  by  a  college-mate,  a  German,  who 
wanted  some  one  to  train  with.  At  school  he  had 
run  three  miles  in  remarkable  time ;  but  later,  when 
an  officer  in  the  German  army,  his  horse  had  rolled 
over  him  at  the  finish  of  a  steeple-chase,  and  the 
accident  had  knocked  out  his  heart ;  so  he  was  going 
to  try  to  sprint.  I  advised  him  against  all  train- 
ing, and  the  groundsman  shook  his  head.  Yet  he 
was  set  upon  showing  the  Englishmen  in  Balliol 
that  a  German  could  be  a  sportsman.  This  was 
no  idle  talk,  as  I  found  later,  when  he  fainted  in 
the  bath  after  a  fast  hundred,  and  failed  by  no 
one  knows  how  little  of  coming  to.  We  were  soon 
joined  by  a  third  Balliol  man,  a  young  Greek  poet, 
whose  name  is  familiar  to  all  who  are  abreast  of 
the  latest  literary  movement  at  Athens.  He  was 
taking  up  with  athletics  because  of  his  interest  in 
the  revival  of  the  ancient  glories  of  Greece.  When 
I  asked  him  what  distance  suited  him  best  — 
whether  he  was  a  sprinter  or  a  runner  —  he  an- 
swered with  the  sweet  reasonableness  of  the  Hel- 
133 


AN   AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

lenic  nature  that  any  distance  would  suit  him  that 
suited  me.  A  motlier  trio  than  we,  I  suppose, 
never  scratched  a  cinder-path.  Yet  the  fellows  in 
our  college  seemed  almost  as  interested  as  they 
were  amused ;  and  we  soon  found  that  even  so 
learned  a  place  as  Balliol  would  have  been  glad 
to  bolster  its  self-esteem  by  furnishing  its  quota 
of  "running  blues."  What  was  lacking  in  the 
way  of  stimulus  from  the  university  was  more 
than  made  up  for  by  the  spontaneous  interest  of 
the  fellows  in  college. 

The  rudimentary  form  of  athletics  is  in  meet- 
ings held  by  the  separate  colleges.  These  occur 
throughout  the  athletic  season,  namely,  the  autumn 
term  and  the  winter  term ;  and  as  hard  on  to  a 
score  of  colleges  give  them,  they  come  off  pretty 
often.  The  prizes  are  sums  of  money  placed  with 
the  Oxford  jeweler,  to  be  spent  in  his  shop  as  the 
winners  see  fit.  In  America,  the  four  classes,  which 
are  the  only  sources  of  athletic  life  independent 
of  the  university,  are  so  moribund  socially  that  it 
never  occurs  to  them  to  get  out  on  the  track  for 
a  day's  sport.  It  is  true  that  we  sometimes  hold 
inter-class  games,  but  the  management  of  these  is 
in  the  hands  of  the  university ;  they  are  inspired 
solely  by  a  very  conscious  attempt  to  develop  new 
men,  and  to  furnish  the  old  ones  with  practice  in 
134 


TRACK  AND  FIELD   ATHLETICS 

racing.  The  vitality  of  the  athletic  spirits  in  the 
English  colleges  is  witnessed  by  the  fact  that  an 
Oxford  college  frequently  meets  a  fit  rival  at  Cam- 
bridge in  a  set  of  dual  games  just  for  the  fun  of  it. 

The  only  bond  between  the  numerous  college 
meetings  and  the  university  sports  is  a  single  event 
in  each,  called  a  strangers'  race,  which  is  open  to  all 
comers.  The  purpose  of  these  races  is  precisely 
that  of  our  inter-class  meetings  —  to  give  all  pro- 
mising athletes  practice  in  competition.  As  the 
two  prizes  in  each  strangers'  race  average  five 
pounds  and  thirty  shillings  respectively,  the  races 
are  pretty  efficient.  Though  the  "  blues  "  some- 
times compete  —  Cross  made  his  record  of  1  m. 
54|s.  for  the  half  mile  in  one  of  them  —  they 
generally  abandon  them  to  the  new  men  of  pro- 
mise. While  the  president  and  the  "  blues " 
generally  are  rowing  and  playing  football,  the  col- 
leges thus  automatically,  develop  new  material  for 
the  team. 

The  climax  of  the  athletic  meetings  of  the 
autumn  term  is  the  freshman  sports,  held  on  two 
days,  with  a  day's  interval.  The  friends  of  the 
various  contestants  make  up  a  far  larger  audience 
than  one  finds  at  similar  sports  in  America ;  and 
a  brass  band  plays  while  the  races  are  on.  The 
whole  thing  is  decidedly  inspiring;  and  for  the 
135 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

first  time  one  is  brought  face  to  face  with  the  fact 
that  there  are  inter-varsity  games  in  store. 

When  the  winter  term  opens,  bleak  and  rainy, 
the  strangers'  races  bring  out  more  upper  class- 
men. By  and  by  the  "  blues  "  themselves  appear 
in  sweater,  muffler,  and  blazer,  and  "  paddle  "  about 
the  track  to  supple  their  muscles  and  regain  dis- 
used racing  strides.  At  the  end  of  a  fortnight  I 
noticed  a  middle-aged  gentleman  with  whom  the 
prominent  athletes  conferred  before  and  after  each 
day's  work.  I  soon  found  that  he  was  Mr.  C.  N. 
Jackson,  a  don  of  Hertford  College,  who  should 
always  be  remembered  as  the  first  hurdler  to  finish 
in  even  time.  It  is  Be  who  —  save  the  mark  — 
takes  the  place  of  our  American  trainers.  At  one 
of  our  large  American  universities  about  this  time, 
as  I  afterwards  learned,  a  very  different  scene 
was  enacting.  The  trainer  and  the  captain  called 
a  mass-meeting  and  collected  a  band  of  Mott 
Haven  champions  of  the  past  to  exhort  the  Uni- 
versity to  struggle  free  from  athletic  disgrace. 
Though  the  inter-varsity  games  were  nearly  four 
months  in  the  future  —  instead  of  six  or  seven 
weeks  as  at  Oxford  —  those  ancient  athletes  aroused 
such  enthusiasm  that  268  men  undertook  the  three 
months  of  indoor  training.  To  one  used  to  such 
exhortations,  the  Oxford  indifference  was  as  chill- 
136 


TRACK   AND   FIELD .  ATHLETICS 

ing  as  the  weather  we  were  all  training  in.  Mr. 
Jackson  seemed  never  to  notice  me  ;  and  how  could 
I  address  him  when  he  had  not  even  asked  me  to 
save  the  university  from  disgrace  ?  I  was  forced 
to  the  unheroic  expedient  of  presenting  a  card  of 
introduction.  To  my  surprise,  I  found  that  he 
had  been  carefully  watching  my  work  from  day  to 
day,  but  had  not  felt  justified  in  giving  advice 
until  I  asked  for  it. 

Even  during  the  final  period  of  training,  every- 
thing happened  so  pleasantly  and  naturally  that  I 
had  none  of  the  nervous  qualms  common  among 
American  athletes.  At  first  I  thought  I  missed  the 
early  morning  walks  our  teams  take  daily,  the  com- 
panionship and  jollity  of  the  training-table,  and  the 
sense  that  the  team  was  making  a  common  sacrifice 
for  an  important  end.  Yet  here,  too,  the  college 
made  up  in  a  large  measure  for  what  I  failed  to 
find  in  the  university.  One  of  our  eightsmen  was 
training  with  a  scrub  four  that  was  to  row  a  crew 
of  schoolboys  at  Winchester ;  and  we  had  a  little 
course  of  training  of  our  own.  Every  morning  we 
walked  out  for  our  dip  to  Parson's  Pleasure,  and 
breakfasted  afterward  beneath  an  ancient  ivied 
window  in  the  common  room.  In  the  pleasantness 
and  quiet  of  those  sunlit  mornings,  I  began  to 
realize  that  our  training-table  mirth,  which  is  some- 
137 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

times  so  boisterous,  is  in  part  at  least  due  to  in- 
tense excitement  and  overwrought  nerves.  And 
the  notion  of  self-sacrifice,  which  appeals  to  us  so 
deeply,  seemed  absurd  where  we  were  all  training 
for  the  pleasure  and  wholesomeness  of  sport,  and 
for  the  sake  of  a  ribbon  of  blue. 

The  interest  the  university  took  in  our  welfare 
became  made  manifest  when  the  "first  strings" 
were  sent  off  to  Brighton  for  the  change  in  climate 
which  all  English  teams  require  before  great 
games.  Some  of  the  rest  of  us,  who  had  nowhere 
else  to  go,  went  with  them,  but  most  of  the  men 
went  home  to  train.  The  second  string  in  the  three 
miles  stayed  up  at  Oxford  for  commemoration,  and 
joined  us  after  three  consecutive  nights  of  dancing. 
He  said  that  he  found  he  needed  staying  up  work. 

Every  morning  at  Brighton  the  president  made 
the  round  of  our  quarter  of  the  hotel  shortly  before 
eight  o'clock,  and  spoiled  our  waking  naps  to  rout 
us  out  for  our  morning's  walk,  which  included  a 
plunge  into  the  Channel.  For  breakfast,  as  indeed 
for  all  our  meals,  we  had  ordinary  English  fare,  with 
the  difference  only  that  it  was  more  abundant. 

On  alternate  days  our  training  consisted  in  cross- 
country walks  of  ten  or  a  dozen  miles.  Our  fa- 
vorite paths  led  along  the  chalk  cliffs,  and  com- 
manded a  lordly  view  of  the  Channel.  Sometimes, 
138 


TRACK   AND   FIELD   ATHLETICS 

for  the  sake  of  variety,  we  went  by  train  io  the 
Devil's  Dyke  and  tramped  back  over  the  downs, 
now  crossing  golf-links  and  now  skirting  cornfields 
ablaze  with  poppies.  All  this  walking  filled  our 
lungs  with  the  Brighton  air,  and  by  keeping  our 
minds  off  our  races,  prevented  worry.  Sprinters 
and  distance  men  walked  together,  though  the 
sprinters  usually  turned  back  a  mile  or  two  before 
the  rest.  The  rate  prescribed  was  three  and  a  half 
miles  an  hour ;  but  our  spirits  rose  so  high  that  we 
had  trouble  in  keeping  it  below  five.1 

The  training  dinners  furnished  the  really  memo- 
rable hours  of  the  day.  A  half -pint  of  "  Burton 
bitter  "  was  a  necessity,  and  a  pint  merely  rations. 
If  one  preferred,  he  might  drink  Burgundy  ad  lib., 
or  Scotch  and  soda.  After  trials  there  was  cham- 
pagne. When  I  told  the  fellows  that  in  America 
our  relaxation  consists  in  ice-cream  for  Sunday 
dinner,  they  set  me  down  as  a  humorist.  After 
dinner,  instead  of  coffee  and  tobacco,  we  used  to 
go  out  to  the  West  Pier,  which  was  a  miniature 
Coney  Island,  and  amuse  ourselves  with  the  vari- 
ous attractions.  The  favorite  diversion  was  seeing 
the  Beautiful  Living  Lady  Cremated.  The  attrac- 
tion was  the  showman,  who  used  to  give  an  elabo- 

1  For  a  note  on  the  value  of  walking  as  a  part  of  athletic  train- 
ing-, see  Appendix  I. 

139 


AN  AMERICAN  AT   OXFORD 

rate  oration  in  Lancashire  brogue.  Every  word 
of  it  was  funny,  but  especially  the  closing  sentence : 
"  The  Greeks  'ad  a  ancient  custom  of  porun'  a  lie- 
bation  on  the  cinders  of  the  departud,  which  cus- 
tom, gentlemen,  we  omits."  We  used  to  laugh  so 
heartily  at  this  that  the  showman  would  join  in, 
and  even  the  beautiful  living  lady  would  snicker 
companion  ably,  as  she  crawled  away  beneath  the 
stage.  If  the  reader  is  unable  to  see  the  fun  of 
it,  there  is  no  help  for  him  —  except,  perhaps, 
an  English  training  dinner. 

The  rest  of  the  evenings  we  used  to  spend  in 
strolling  about  among  the  crowd,  breathing  the 
salt  air,  and  listening  to  the  music.  We  did  not 
lack  companionship,  for  the  Oxford  and  Cambridge 
cricket  elevens  were  at  Brighton,  and  the  entire 
Cambridge  athletic  team.  Many  of  the  cricketers, 
and  not  a  few  of  the  Cambridge  athletes — whom 
the  Oxford  men  called  "  Cantabs,"  and  sometimes 
even  "  Tabs  "  —  paraded  the  place  puffing  bulldog 
pipes.  The  outward  relationship  between  the  rival 
teams  was  simply  that  of  man  to  man.  If  one 
knew  a  Cambridge  man  he  joined  him,  and  intro- 
duced the  fellows  he  happened  to  be  walking  with. 
One  day  the  Cambridge  president  talked  frankly 
about  training,  urging  us  to  take  long  walks,  and 
inviting  us  to  go  with  his  men.  The  only  reason 
140 


TRACK   AND   FIELD   ATHLETICS 

we  did  not  go  was  that  our  day  for  walking  hap- 
pened to  be  different  from  theirs. 

The  days  on  which  we  did  our  track  work  we 
spent  largely  in  London,  at  the  Queen's  Club 
grounds,  in  order  to  get  a  general  sense  of  the 
track  and  of  the  conditions  under  which  the  sports 
were  to  take  place.  Sometimes,  however,  we  ran 
at  Preston  Park,  on  the  outskirts  of  Brighton. 

On  the  day  of  the  inter-varsity  meeting,  our  Vr 
team  came  together  as  a  whole  for  the  first  time  in 
the  dressing-rooms  of  the  Queen's  Club.  The  fel- 
lows dropped  in  one  by  one,  in  frock  coats,  top  hats, 
and  with  a  general  holiday  air.  The  Oxford  broad- 
jumper,  who  was  the  best  man  at  the  event  in  Eng- 
land, had  been  so  busy  playing  cricket  all  season, 
and  smoking  his  pipe  with  the  other  cricketers 
on  the  pier  at  Brighton,  that  he  had  not  had  time 
even  to  send  to  Oxford  for  his  jumping-shoes.  In 
borrowing  a  pair  he  explained  that  unless  a  fellow 
undertook  the  fag  of  thorough  training,  he  could 
jump  better  without  any  practice.  Our  weight- 
thrower,  a  freshman,  had  surprised  himself  two 
days  previously  by  making  better  puts  than  either 
of  the  Cambridge  men  had  ever  done ;  but  as 
nobody  had  ever  thought  it  worth  while  to  coach 
him,  he  did  not  know  how  he  had  done  it,  and  was 
naturally  afraid  he  could  n't  do  it  again.  He 
141 


AN  AMERICAN   AT  OXFORD 

showed  that  he  was  a  freshman  by  appearing  to 
care  whether  or  not  he  did  his  best  J  but  even  his 
imagination  failed  to  grasp  the  fact  that  the  team 
which  won  was  to  have  the  privilege  of  meeting 
Yale  in  America.  As  it  turned  out,  if  either  of 
these  men  had  taken  his  event,  Oxford,  instead  of 
Cambridge,  would  have  met  Yale. 

As  I  went  out  to  start  in  my  race,  the  question 
of  half-sleeves  which  Englishmen  require  in  all 
athletic  contests  was  settled  in  my  mind.  The 
numberless  seasonable  gowns  in  the  stands  and 
the  innumerable  top  hats  ranged  on  all  sides  about 
the  course  made  me  feel  as  if  I  were  at  a  lawn 
party  rather  than  at  an  athletic  meeting.  I  suf- 
fered as  a  girl  suffers  at  her  first  evening  party,  or 
rather  as  one  suffers  in  those  terrible  dreams  where 
one  faces  the  problem  of  maintaining  his  dignity 
in  company  while  clad  in  a  smile  or  so.  Waiving 
the  question  of  half-sleeves,  I  should  have  con- 
sented to  run  in  pyjamas. 

In  the  race  I  had  an  experience  which  raised  a 
question  or  two  that  still  offer  food  for  reflection. 
As  my  best  distance  —  a  half  mile  —  was  not  in- 
cluded in  the  inter-varsity  program,  I  ran  in  the 
mile  as  second  string.  There  was  a  strong  wind 
and  the  pace  was  pretty  hot,  even  for  the  best  of 
us,  namely,  the  Cambridge  first  string,  who  had  won 
142 


TRACK   AND    FIELD   ATHLETICS 

the  race  the  year  before  in  4  min.  19^  sec., — 
the  fastest  mile  ever  run  in  university  games.  As 
the  English  score  in  athletic  games,  only  first  places 
count,  and  on  the  second  of  the  three  laps  I  found 
myself  debating  whether  it  is  not  unnecessarily 
strenuous  to  force  a  desperate  finish  where  the 
only  question  is  how  far  a  man  can  keep  in  front 
of  the  tail  end.  Several  of  the  fellows  had  already 
dropped  out  in  the  quietest  and  most  matter  of 
fact  manner ;  and  as  we  were  finishing  the  lap 
against  the  wind,  I  became  a  convert  to  the  Eng- 
lish code  of  sportsmanship. 

As  the  bunch  drew  away  from  me  and  turned 
into  the  easy  going  of  the  sheltered  stretch,  I  was 
filled  with  envy  of  them,  and  with  uncontrollable 
disgust  at  myself,  the  like  of  which  I  had  never 
felt  when  beaten,  however  badly,  after  making  a 
fair  struggle.  And  when  I  saw  them  finishing 
against  the  hurricane,  striding  as  if  they  were  run- 
ning upstairs,  I  felt  the  heroism  of  a  desperate 
finish  as  I  had  never  done  before.  It  did  not  help 
matters  when  I  realized  that  it  was  the  last  race  I 
was  ever  to  run. 

At  the  Sports'  dinner  that  night  at  the  Holborn 

Restaurant,  I  pocketed  some  of  my  disgust.     The 

occasion  was  so  happy  that  I  remember  wishing 

we  might  have  something  like  it  after  our  meet- 

143 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

ings  at  home,  for  good-fellowship  chastens  the 
pride  of  winning  and  gives  dignity  to  honest  defeat. 
There  was  homage  for  the  victors  and  humorous 
sympathy  for  the  vanquished.  Light  blue  and 
dark  blue  applauded  and  poked  fun  at  each  other 
impartially.  Sir  Richard  Webster,  Q.  C,  now 
Lord  Chief  Justice,  himself  an  old  blue,  presided 
at  the  dinner,  and  explained  how  it  was  that  the 
performances  of  his  day  were  really  not  to  be 
sneezed  at ;  and  the  young  blues,  receiving  their 
prizes,  looked  happy  and  said  nothing.  After 
dinner,  we  divided  into  squads  and  went  to  the 
Empire  Theatre  of  Varieties,  Cantab  locking  arms 
with  Oxonian.  By  supper  time,  at  St.  James',  I 
was  almost  cheerful  again. 

Yet  the  disgust  of  having  quitted  that  race  has 
never  left  me.  The  spirit  of  English  sportsman- 
ship will  always  seem  to  me  very  gracious  and 
charming.  As  a  nation,  I  think  we  can  never  be 
too  thankful  for  the  lesson  our  kinspeople  have  to 
teach  us  in  sportsmanly  moderation  and  in  chivalry 
toward  an  opponent.  But  every  man  must  draw 
his  own  line  between  the  amenities  of  life  and  the 
austerities  ;  and  I  know  one  American  who  hopes 
never  again  to  quit  a  contest,  even  a  contest  in 
sport,  until  he  has  had  the  humble  satisfaction  of 
doing  his  best. 

144 


ENGLISH  AND  AMERICAN  SPORTSMANSHIP 

THE  prevalence  of  out-of-door  sports  in  Eng- 
land, and  the  amenity  of  the  English  sport- 
ing spirit,  may  be  laid,  I  think,  primarily,  to  the 
influence  of  climate.  Through  the  long,  temper- 
ate summer,  all  nature  conspires  to  entice  a  man 
out  of  doors,  while  in  America  sunstroke  is  immi- 
nent. All  day  long  the  village  greens  in  England 
are  thronged  with  boys  playing  cricket  in  many- 
colored  blazers,  while  every  stream  is  dotted  with 
boats  of  all  sorts  and  descriptions ;  and  in  the 
evenings,  long  after  the  quick  American  twilight 
has  shut  down  on  the  heated  earth,  the  English 
horizon  gives  light  for  the  recreations  of  those 
who  have  labored  all  day.  In  the  winter  the  re- 
sult is  the  same,  though  the  cause  is  very  different. 
Stupefying  exhalations  rise  from  the  damp  earth, 
and  the  livelong  twilight  that  does  for  day  forces 
a  man  back  for  good  cheer  upon  mere  animal 
spirits.  In  the  English  summer  no  normal  man 
could  resist  the  beckoning  of  the  fields  and  the 
river.  In  the  winter  it  is  sweat,  man,  or  die. 
145 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

It  is  perhaps  because  of  the  incessant  call  to  be 
out  of  doors  that  Englishmen  care  so  little  to  have 
their  houses  properly  tempered.  At  my  first  din- 
ner with  the  dons  of  my  college,  the  company 
assembled  about  a  huge  sea-coal  fire.  On  a  rough 
calculation  the  coal  it  consumed,  if  used  in  one  of 
our  steam-heaters,  would  have  heated  the  entire 
college  to  incandescence.  As  it  was,  its  only  effect 
seemed  to  be  to  draw  an  icy  blast  across  our  ankles 
from  mediaeval  doors  and  windows  that  swept  the 
fire  bodily  up  the  chimney,  and  left  us  shivering. 
One  of  the  dons  explained  that  an  open  fire  has 
two  supreme  advantages :  it  is  the  most  cheerful 
thing  in  life,  and  it  insures  thorough  ventilation. 
I  agreed  with  him  heartily,  warming  one  ankle  in 
my  palms,  but  demurred  that  in  an  American 
winter  heat  was  as  necessary  as  cheerfulness  and 
ventilation.  "But  if  one  wears  thick  woolens," 
he  replied,  "  the  cold  and  draught  are  quite  endur- 
able. When  you  get  too  cold  reading,  put  on  your 
great-coat."  I  asked  him  what  he  did  when  he 
went  out  of  doors.  "  I  take  off  my  great-coat.  It  is 
much  warmer  there,  especially  if  one  walks  briskly." 
Some  days  later,  when  I  went  to  dine  with  my 
tutor,  my  hostess  apologized  for  the  chill  of  the 
drawing-room.  " It  will  presently  be  much  warmer," 
she  added ;  "  I  have  always  noticed  that  when 
146 


SPORTSMANSHIP 

you  have  sat  in  a  room  awhile,  it  gets  warm  from 
the  heat  of  your  bodies."  She  proved  to  be  right. 
But  when  we  went  into  the  dining-room,  we  found 
it  like  a  barn.  She  smiled  with  repeated  reassur- 
ances. Again  she  proved  right ;  but  we  had  hardly 
tempered  the  frost  when  we  had  to  shift  again 
to  the  drawing-room,  which  by  this  time  again 
required,  so  to  speak,  to  be  acclimated.  Mean- 
while my  tutor,  who  was  of  a  jocular  turn  of  mind, 
diverted  our  thoughts  from  our  suffering  by  rag- 
ging me  about  American  steam  heat,  and  forced 
me,  to  his  infinite  delight,  to  admit  that  we  aim 
to  keep  our  rooms  warmed  to  sixty-eight  degrees 
Fahrenheit.  Needless  to  say,  this  don  was  an  ath- 
lete. As  the  winter  wore  away,  I  repeatedly  saw 
him  in  Balliol  hockey  squashes,  chasing  the  ball 
about  with  the  agility  of  a  terrier  pup.  At  night- 
fall, no  doubt,  he  returned  to  his  wife  and  family 
prepared  to  heat  any  room  in  the  house  to  the 
required  temperature.  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should 
resent  the  opprobrium  Englishmen  heap  upon  our 
steam  heat !  I  merely  wish  to  point  out  that  the 
English  have  failed  as  signally  as  we,  though  for  the 
opposite  reason,  in  making  their  houses  habitable 
in  the  winter,  and  that  an  Englishman  is  forced 
into  athletics  to  resist  the  deadly  stupefaction  of 
a  Boeotian  climate,  and  to  keep  his  house  warm. 
147 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

In  a  sportsman  it  would  be  most  ungracious  to 
inveigh  against  English  weather.  The  very  qual- 
ities one  instinctively  curses  make  possible  the  full 
and  varied  development  of  outdoor  games,  which 
Americans  admire  without  stint.  Our  football 
teams  do  day  labor  to  get  fit,  and  then,  after  a 
game  or  so,  the  sport  is  nipped  in  the  bud.  To 
teach  our  oarsmen  the  rudiments  of  the  stroke  we 
resort  to  months  of  the  galley-slavery  of  tank-row- 
ing. Our  track  athletes  begin  their  season  in  the 
dead  of  winter  with  the  dreary  monotony  of  wooden 
dumb-bells  and  pulley-weights,  while  the  baseball 
men  are  learning  to  slide  for  bases  in  the  cage. 
In  England  the  gymnasium  is  happily  unknown. 
Winter  and  summer  alike  the  sportsman  lives 
beneath  the  skies,  and  the  sports  are  so  diverse 
and  so  widely  cultivated  that  any  man,  whatever 
his  mental  or  physical  capacity,  finds  suitable 
exercise  that  is  also  recreation. 

It  is  because  of  this  universality  of  athletic 
sports  that  English  training  is  briefer  and  less 
severe.  The  American  makes,  and  is  forced  to 
make,  a  long  and  tedious  business  of  getting  fit, 
whereas  an  Englishman  has  merely  to  exercise 
and  sleep  a  trifle  more  than  usual,  and  this  only 
for  a  brief  period.  Our  oarsmen  work  daily  from 
January  to  July,  about  six  months,  or  did  so  be- 
148 


SPOKTSMANSHIP 

fore  Mr.  Lehmaim  brought  English  ideas  among 
us ;  the  English  'varsity  crews  row  together  nine 
or  ten  weeks.  Our  football  players  slog  daily  for 
six  or  seven  weeks;  English  teams  seldom  or 
never  "  practice,"  and  play  at  most  two  matches  a 
week.  Our  track  athletes  are  in  training  at  fre- 
quent intervals  throughout  the  college  year,  and 
are  often  at  the  training-table  six  weeks  ;  in  Eng- 
land six  weeks  is  the  maximum  period  of  training, 
and  the  men  as  a  rule  are  given  only  three  days 
a  week  of  exercise  on  the  cinder-track.  To  an 
American  training  is  an  abnormal  condition ;  to  an 
Englishman  it  is  the  consummation  of  the  normal. 
The  moderation  of  English  training  is  power- 
fully abetted  by  a  peculiarity  of  the  climate. 
The  very  dullness  and  depression  that  make  exer- 
cise imperative  also  make  it  impossible  to  sustain 
much  of  it.  The  clear,  bright  American  sky  — 
the  sky  that  renders  it  difficult  for  us  to  take 
the  same  delight  in  Italy  as  an  Englishman  takes, 
and  leads  us  to  prefer  Ruskin's  descriptions  to 
the  reality  —  cheers  the  American  athlete ;  anc1 
the  crispness  of  the  atmosphere  and  its  extreme 
variability  keeps  his  nerves  alert.  An  English 
athlete  would  go  hopelessly  stale  on  work  that 
would  scarcely  key  an  American  up  to  his  highest 
pitch. 

149 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

The  effect  of  these  differences  on  the  tempera- 
ment of  the  athlete  is  marked.  The  crispness  and 
variety  of  our  climate  foster  nervous  vitality  at 
the  expense  of  physical  vitality,  while  the  equa- 
bility of  the  English  climate  has  the  opposite 
effect.  In  all  contests  that  require  sustained 
effort  —  distance  running  and  cross-country  run- 
ning, for  example  —  we  are  in  general  far  behind ; 
while  during  the  comparatively  few  years  in  which 
we  have  practiced  athletic  sports  we  have  shown, 
on  the  whole,  vastly  superior  form  in  all  contests 
depending  upon  nervous  energy  —  sprinting,  hur- 
dling, jumping,  and  weight-throwing. 

Because  of  these  differences  of  climate  and  of 
temperament,  no  rigid  comparisons  can  be  made 
between  English  and  American  training ;  but  it  is 
probably  true  that  English  athletes  tend  to  train 
too  little.  Mr.  Horan,  the  president  of  the  Cam- 
bridge team  that  ran  against  Yale  at  New  Haven, 
said  as  much  after  a  very  careful  study  of  Amer- 
ican methods  ;  but  he  was  not  convinced  that  our 
thoroughness  is  quite  worth  while.  The  law  of 
diminishing  returns,  he  said,  applies  to  training  as 
to  other  things,  so  that,  after  a  certain  point,  very 
little  is  gained  even  for  a  great  sacrifice  of  con- 
venience and  pleasantness.  Our  American  ath- 
letes are  twice  as  rigid  in  denying  the  spirit  for 
150 


SPORTSMANSHIP 

an  advantage,  Mr.  Horan  admitted,  of  enough  to 
win  by. 

The  remark  is  worth  recording :  it  strikes  the 
note  of  difference  between  English  and  American 
sportsmanship.  After  making  all  allowances  for 
the  conditions  here  and  abroad  that  are  merely 
accidental,  one  vital  difference  remains.  For  bet- 
ter or  for  worse,  a  sport  is  a  sport  to  an  English- 
man, and  whatever  tends  to  make  it  anything  else 
is  not  encouraged ;  as  far  as  possible  it  is  made 
pleasant,  socially  and  physically.  Contests  are 
arranged  without  what  American  undergraduates 
call  diplomacy  ;  and  they  come  off  without  jockey- 
ing. It  is  very  seldom  that  an  Englishman  for- 
gets that  he  is  a  man  first  and  an  athlete  after- 
wards. Yet  admirable  as  this  quality  is,  it  has  its 
defects,  at  least  to  the  transatlantic  mind.  Even 
more,  perhaps,  than  others,  Englishmen  relish 
the  joy  of  eating  their  hearts  at  the  end  of  a 
contest,  but  they  have  no  taste  for  the  careful  pre- 
paration that  alone  enables  a  man  to  fight  out  a 
finish  to  the  best  advantage.  It  is  no  doubt  true, 
as  the  Duke  of  Wellington  said,  that  the  battle  of 
Waterloo  was  won  on  the  playing-fields  of  Eng- 
land ;  but  for  any  inconsiderable  sum  I  would  agree 
to  furnish  a  similar  saying  as  to  why  the  generals 
in  South  Africa  ran  into  ambush  after  ambush. 
151 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

In  America,  sportsmanship  is  almost  a  religion. 
Fellows  mortify  the  flesh  for  months  and  leave  no 
means  untried  that  may  help  to  bring  honor  to 
their  college ;  or  if  they  don't,  public  opinion 
brings  swift  and  sure  retribution.  It  is  true  that 
this  leads  to  excesses.  Rivalries  are  so  strong  that 
undergraduates  have  been  known  to  be  more  than 
politic  in  arranging  matches  with  each  other.  So 
the  graduate  steps  in  to  moderate  the  ardor  of 
emulation,  and  often  ends  by  keeping  alive  an- 
cient animosities  long  after  they  would  have  been 
forgotten  in  the  vanishing  generations  of  under- 
graduates. The  Harvard  eleven  wants  to  play  the 
usual  football  game ;  but  it  is  not  allowed  to,  be- 
cause a  committee  of  graduates  sees  fit  to  snub 
Yale;  the  athletic  team  wants  to  accept  a  chal- 
lenge from  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  but  it  is  not 
allowed  to  because  Pennsylvania,  which  is  not 
challenged,  has  a  better  team,  and  it  is  the  policy 
of  the  university  (which  has  an  eye  to  its  gradu- 
ate schools)  to  ingratiate  sister  institutions.  In  a 
word,  the  undergraduates  are  left  to  manage  their 
studies  while  the  faculty  manages  their  pastimes. 

When  a  contest  is  finally  on,  excesses  are  ram- 
pant. Of  occasional  brutalities  too  much  has  per- 
haps been  said ;  but  more  serious  errors  are  unre- 
proved.  There  is  a  tradition  that  it  is  the  duty  of 
152 


SPORTSMANSHIP 

all  non-athletes  to  inspire  the  'varsity  teams  by 
cheering  the  play  from  the  side  lines ;  and  from 
time  to  time  one  reads  leading  articles  in  the  col- 
lege papers  exhorting  men  to  back  the  teams. 
^■The  spectator  is  thus  given  an  important  part  in 
every  contest,  and  after  a  'varsity  match  he  is 
praised  or  blamed,  together  with  the  members  of 
the  team,  according  to  his  deserts.  Yale  may  out- 
play Harvard,  but  if  Harvard  sufficiently  out- 
cheers  Yale  she  wins,  and  to  the  rooters  belong 
the  praise.  In  baseball  games  especially,  a  sea- 
son's championship  is  not  infrequently  decided  by 
the  fact  that  the  partisans  of  one  side  are  more 
numerous,  or  for  other  reasons  make  more  noise. 
These  are  serious  excesses,  and  are  worthy  of  the 
pen  of  the  robustest  reformer ;  but  after  all  has 
been  said  they  are  incidents,  and  in  the  slow 
course  of  time  are  probably  disappearing. 

The  signal  fact  is  that  our  young  men  do  what 
they  do  with  the  diligence  of  enthusiasm,  and  with 
the  devotion  that  inspires  the  highest  courage. 
It  is  not  unknown  that,  in  the  bitterness  of  failure, 
American  athletes  have  burst  into  tears.  When 
our  English  cousins  hear  of  this  they  are  apt  to 
smile,  and  doubtless  the  practice  is  not  altogether 
to  be  commended  ;  but  in  the  length  and  breadth 
of  a  man's  experience  there  are  only  two  or  three 
153 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

things  one  would  wish  so  humbly  as  the  devo- 
tion that  makes  it  possible.  Such  earnestness 
is  the  quintessence  of  Americanism,  and  is  prob- 
ably to  be  traced  to  the  signal  fact  that  in  the 
struggle  of  life  we  all  start  with  a  fighting  chance 
of  coming  out  on  top.  Whatever  the  game,  so 
long  as  it  is  treated  as  a  game,  nothing  could  be  as 
wholesome  as  the  spirit  that  tends  to  make  our 
young  men  play  it  for  all  it  is  worth,  to  do  every- 
thing that  can  be  done  to  secure  victory  with  per- 
sonal honor.  In  later  years,  when  these  men  stand 
for  the  honor  of  the  larger  alma  mater,  on  the  field 
of  battle  or  in  the  routine  of  administration,  it  is 
not  likely  that  they  will  altogether  forget  the  vir- 
tues of  their  youth. 

The  superiority  of  English  sportsmanship  arises, 
not  from  the  spirit  of  the  men,  but  from  the  breadth 
of  the  development  of  the  sports,  and  this,  climate 
aside,  is  the  result  of  the  division  of  the  university 
into  colleges.  The  average  college  of  only  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  men  maintains  two  football  teams 
—  a  Rugby  fifteen  and  an  Association  eleven  — 
an  eight  and  two  torpids,  a  cricket  eleven,  and 
a  hockey  eleven.  Each  college  has  also  a  set  of 
athletic  games  yearly.  If  we  add  the  men  who 
play  golf,  lawn  and  court  tennis,  rackets  and  fives, 
who  swim,  box,  wrestle,  and  who  shoot  on  the 
154 


SPORTSMANSHIP 

ranges  of  the  gun  club,  the  total  of  men  schooled 
in  competition  reaches  eighty  to  one  hundred.  A 
simple  calculation  will  show  that  when  so  many  are 
exercising  daily,  few  are  left  for  spectators.  Not 
a  bench  is  prepared,  nor  even  a  plank  laid  on  the 
spongy  English  turf,  to  stand  between  the  hanger-on 
and  pneumonia.  A  man's  place  is  in  the  field  of 
strife ;  to  take  part  in  athletic  contests  ie  dmost 
as  much  a  matter  of  course  as  to  bathe  _,  Of  late 
years  there  has  been  a  tendency  in  England  to  be- 
lieve that  the  vigor  of  undergraduates  —  and  of  all 
Englishmen,  for  the  matter  of  that  —  is  in  deca- 
dence. As  regards  their  cultivation  of  sports  at 
least,  the  reverse  is  true.  Contests  are  more  numer- 
ous now  than  ever,  and  are  probably  more  earnestly 
waged.  What  is  called  English  decadence  is  in 
reality  the  increasing  superiority  of  England's 
rivals. 

Quite  aside  from  the  physical  and  moral  benefit 
to  the  men  engaged,  this  multiplication  of  contests 
has  a  striking  effect  in  lessening  the  importance  of  < 
winning  or  losing  any  particular  one  of  them.  It 
is  more  powerful  than  any  other  factor  in  keep- 
ing English  sports  free  from  the  excesses  that  have 
so  often  characterized  our  sports.  From  time  to 
time  a  voice  is  raised  in  America  as  of  a  prophet 
of  despair  demanding  the  abolition  of  inter-uni- 
155 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

versity  contests.  As  yet  the  contests  have  not 
been  abolished,  and  do  not  seem  likely  to  be. 
Might  it  not  be  argued  without  impertinence  that 
the  best  means  of  doing  away  with  the  excesses  in 
question  is  not  to  have  fewer  contests,  but  more  of 
them  ?  If  our  universities  were  divided  into  resi- 
dential units,  corresponding  roughly  to  the  Eng- 
lish colleges,  the  excesses  in  particular  contests 
could  scarcely  fail  to  be  mitigated  ;  and  what  is 
perhaps  of  still  higher  importance,  the  great  body 
of  non-athletes  would  be  brought  directly  under 
the  influence  of  all  those  strong  and  fine  traditions 
of  undergraduate  life  which  centre  in  the  spirit  of 
.sportsmanship. 

Note.     For  a  discussion  of  the  influences  of  climate  in  interna- 
tional athletics,  see  Appendix  II. 


156 


Ill 


THE  COLLEGE  AS  AN  EDUCATIONAL 
FORCE 


THE  PASSMAN 

IN  the  educational  life  of  Oxford,  as  in  the 
social  and  athletic  life,  the  distinctive  fea- 
ture, at  least  to  the  American  mind,  is  the  dual- 
ity of  organization  in  consequence  of  which  an 
undergraduate  is  amenable  first  to  his  college  and 
then  to  the  university :  the  college  teaulifis  and 
the  university  examines.  In  America,  so  far  as  the 
undergraduate  is  concerned,  the  college  and  the 
university  are  identical :  the  instructor  in  each 
course  of  lectures  is  also  the  examiner.  It  follows 
from  this  that  whereas  in  America  the  degree  is 
awarded  on  the  basis  of  many  separate  examina- 
tions— one  in  each  of  the  sixteen  or  more  "courses" 
which  are  necessary  for  the  degree  —  in  England 
it  is  awarded  on  the  basis  of  a  single  examination. 
^For  three  or  four  years  the  college  tutor  labors 
with  his  pupil,  and  the  result  of  his  labors  is 
gauged  by  an  examination,  set  and  judged  by  the 
university.  This  system  is  characteristic  of  both 
Cambridge  and  Oxford,  and  for  that  matter,  of  all 
159 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

English  education  ;  and  the  details  of  its  organiza- 
tion present  many  striking  contrasts  to  American 
educational  methods.    J 

Sir  Isaac  Newton's  happy  thought  of  having  a 
big  hole  in  his  door  for  the  cat  and  a  little  hole  for 
the  kitten  must  have  first  been  held  up  to  ridicule 
by  an  American.  In  England,  the  land  of  classes, 
it  could  hardly  fail  of  full  sympathy.  In  America 
there  is  but  one  hole  of  exit,  though  men  differ  in 
their  proportions  as  they  go  out  through  it.  In 
England  there  are  passmen  and  classmen. 

To  say  that  the  passman  is  the  kitten  would  not 
be  altogether  precise.  He  is  rather  a  distinct  spe- 
cies of  undergraduate.  More  than  that,  he  is  the 
historic  species,  tracing  his  origin  quite  without 
break  to  the  primal  undergraduate  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  He  is  a  tradition  from  the  time  when  the 
fund  of  liberal  knowledge  was  so  small  that  the 
.  university  undertook  to  serve  it  all  up  in  a  pint- 
pot  to  whoever  might  apply.  The  pint-pot  still 
exists  at  Oxford ;  and  though  the  increasing  know- 
ledge of  nine  centuries  long  ago  overflowed  its 
brim,  the  passman  still  holds  it  forth  trustfully  to 
his  tutor.  The  tutor  patiently  mingles  in  it  an 
elixir  compounded  of  as  many  educational  simples 
as  possible,  and  then  the  passman  presents  it  to 

^the  examiners,  who  smile  and  dub  him  Bachelor 
160 


THE  PASSMAN 

of  Arts.     After  three  years,  if  he  is  alive  and  pays 
the  sum  of  twelve  pounds,  they  dub  him  Master. 

The  system  for  granting  the  pass  degree  is,  in 
its  broader  outlines,  the  same  as  for  all  degrees. 
In  the  first  examination  —  that  for  matriculation 
—  it  is  identical  for  passmen  and  classmen.  This 
examination  is  called  "  responsions,"  and  is,  like  its 
name,  of  mediaeval  origin.  It  is  the  equivalent  of 
the  American  entrance  examination ;  but  by  one 
of  the  many  paradoxes  of  Oxford  life  it  was  for 
centuries  required  to  be  taken  after  the  pupil  had 
been  admitted  into  residence  in  one  of  the  colleges. 
In  the  early  Middle  Ages  the  lack  of  preparatory 
schools  made  it  necessary  first  to  catch  your  under- 
graduate. It  was  not  until  the  nineteenth  century 
that  a  man  could  take  an  equivalent  test  before 
coming  up,  for  example  at  a  public  school ;  but  it 
is  now  fast  becoming  the  rule  to  do  so ;  and  it  is 
probable  that  all  colleges  will  soon  require  an 
entrance  examination.  In  this  way  two  or  thre 
terms  more  of  a  student's  residence  are  devoted  to 
preparation  for  the  two  later  and  severer  university 
tests. 

The  subjects  required  for  matriculation  are  easy 

enough,  according  to  our  standards.     Candidates 

offer :  (1)  The  whole  of  arithmetic,  and  either  (a) 

elementary  algebra  as  far  as  simple  equations  in- 

161 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

volving  two  unknown  quantities,  or  (6)  the  first 
two  books  of  Euclid  ;  (2)  Greek  and  Latin  gram- 
mar, Latin  prose  composition,  and  prepared  trans- 
lation from  one  Greek  and  one  Latin  book.  The 
passages  for  prepared  translation  are  selected  from 
six  possible  Greek  authors  and  five  possible  Latin 
authors.  The  influence  of  English  colonial  ex- 
pansion is  evident  in  the  fact  that  candidates  who 
are  not  "  European  British  subjects  "  may  by  spe- 
cial permission  offer  classical  Sanskrit,  Arabic, 
or  Pali  as  a  substitute  for  either  Greek  or  Latin  : 
the  dark-skinned  Orientals,  who  are  so  familiar  a 
part  of  Oxford  life,  are  not  denied  the  right  to 
study  the  classics  of  their  native  tongues.  Thus 
the  election  of  subjects  is  a  well-recognized  part  of 
responsions,  though  the  scope  of  the  election  does 
not  extend  to  science  and  the  modern  languages. 

Once  installed  in  the  college  and  matriculated 
in  the  university,  both  passman  and  honor  man  are 
examined  twice  and  twice  only.  The  first  public 
examination,  more  familiarly  called  "moderations," 
or  "  mods,"  takes  place  in  the  middle  of  an  under- 
graduate's course.  Here  the  passmen  have  only 
a  single  subject  in  common  with  the  men  seeking 
honors,  namely,  the  examination  in  Holy  Scrip- 
ture, or  the  Rudiments  of  Faitn  and  Religion, 
more  familiarly  called  "  Divinners,"  which  is  to 
162 


THE   PASSMAN 

say  Divinities.  The  subject  of  the  examination  is 
the  gospels  of  St.  Luke  and  St.  John  in  the  Greek 
text ;  and  either  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  or  the 
two  books  of  Kings  in  the  Revised  Version.  As 
in  all  Oxford  examinations,  cram-books  abound 
containing  a  reprint  of  the  questions  put  in  recent 
examinations ;  and,  as  many  of  these  questions 
recur  from  year  to  year,  the  student  of  Holy  Scrip- 
ture is  advised  to  master  them.  A  cram-book 
which  came  to  my  notice  is  entitled  "  The  Under- 
graduate's Guide  to  the  Rudiments  of  Faith  and 
Religion,"  and  contains,  among  other  items  of 
useful  information :  tables  of  the  ten  plagues ;  of 
the  halting-places  during  the  journey  in  the  wil- 
derness ;  of  the  twelve  apostles  ;  and  of  the  seven 
deacons.  The  book  recommends  that  the  kings  of 
Judah  and  Israel,  the  journeys  of  St.  Paul,  and 
the  Thirty-nine  Articles  shall  be  committed  to 
memory.  The  obviously  pious  author  of  this  guide 
to  the  rudiments  of  these  important  accomplish- 
ments speaks  thus  cheerfully  in  his  preface  :  "  The 
compiler  feels  assured  that  if  candidates  will  but 
follow  the  plan  he  has  suggested,  no  candidate  of 
even  ordinary  ability  need  have  the  least  fear  of 
failure."  According  to  report,  it  is  perhaps  not 
so  easy  to  acquire  the  rudiments  of  faith  and  re- 
ligion. In  a  paper  set  some  years  ago,  as  one  of 
163 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

the  examiners  informed  me,  a  new  and  unexpected 
question  was  put :  "  Name  the  prophets  and  dis- 
criminate between  the  major  and  the  minor."  One 
astute  passman  wrote :  "  Far  be  it  from  me  to 
make  discriminations  between  these  wise  and  holy- 
men.  The  kings  of  Judah  and  Israel  are  as  fol- 
lows." Unless  a  man  passes  the  examination,  he 
has  to  take  it  again,  and  the  fee  to  the  examiner  is 
one  guinea.  "  This  time  I  go  through,"  exclaimed 
an  often  ploughed  passman.  "  I  need  these  guineas 
for  cigars."  Those  who  are  not  "  European  British 
subjects  "  may  substitute  certain  sacred  works  in 
Sanskrit,  Arabic,  or  Pali ;  and  those  who  object 
for  conscientious  scruples  to  a  study  of  the  Bible 
may  substitute  the  Phaedo  of  Plato ;  but  the  saga- 
cious undergraduate  knows  that  if  he  does  this  he 
must  have  no  conscientious  scruples  against  harder 
work. 

In  America  there  is  no  such  examination,  so  far 
as  I  know.  At  Harvard  an  elective  course  in 
the  history  and  literature  of  the  Jews  is  given  by 
the  Semitic  department ;  and  if  this  does  not 
insure  success  in  acquiring  the  rudiments  of  faith 
and  religion,  it  was,  on  one  occasion  at  least,  the 
means  of  redoubling  the  attendance  at  chapel. 
Just  before  the  final  examination,  it  transpired 
that  the  professor  in  charge  of  the  course  was  con- 
164 


THE   PASSMAN 

ducting  morning  service,  and  was  giving  five  min- 
ute summaries  of  Jewish  history.  For  ten  days 
the  front  pews  were  crowded  with  waistcoats  of 
unwonted  brilliance ;  the  so-called  sports  who  had 
taken  the  course  as  a  snap  were  glad  to  grind  it  up 
under  the  very  best  auspices. 

Let  me  not  be  misunderstood.  In  the  long  run, 
the  English  undergraduates  no  doubt  add  greatly 
to  their  chances  of  spiritual  edification.  At  the 
very  least  they  gain  a  considerable  knowledge  of 
one  of  the  great  monuments  of  the  world's  litera- 
ture. In  America  the  Bible  is  much  less  read  in 
families  than  in  England,  so  that  it  would  seem 
much  more  important  to  prescribe  a  course  in  Bib- 
lical history  and  literature.  At  one  time  Professor 
Child  gave  a  course  in  Spenser  and  the  English 
Bible,  and  is  said  to  have  been  moved  at  times 
when  reading  before  his  classes  to  a  truly  Eliza- 
bethan access  of  tears.  Some  years  before  the 
great  master  died,  he  gave  up  the  course  in  despair 
at  the  Biblical  ignorance  of  his  pupils.  The  usual 
Harvard  undergraduate  cannot  name  five  of  the 
prophets,  with  or  without  discrimination,  or  be  cer- 
tain of  five  of  the  kings  of  Judah.  As  I  write  this, 
I  am  painfully  uncertain  as  to  whether  there  were 
as  many  as  five. 

But  to  return  to  our  muttons.  The  remaining 
165 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

subjects  for  pass  moderations  are  :  (1)  Portions  of 
three  classic  authors,  two  Greek  and  one  Latin,  or 
two  Latin  and  one  Greek.  The  passages  of  each 
author  to  be  studied  are  prescribed,  but  the  candi- 
date may  elect,  with  certain  slight  limitations,  from 
eight  Greek  and  eight  Latin  authors  "  of  the  best 
age."  As  in  the  case  of  responsions  and  Holy- 
Scripture,  Sanskrit,  Arabic,  or  Pali  may  be  substi- 
tuted for  either  Greek  or  Latin.  The  examination 
covers  not  only  grammar  and  literature,  but  any 
question  arising  out  of  the  text.  Besides  these  are 
required  :  (2)  Latin  prose  composition  ;  (3)  sight 
translation  of  Greek  and  Latin;  and  (4)  either 
logic  or  the  elements  of  geometry  and  algebra. 

The  final  pass  examination  allows  a  considerable 
range  of  election.  Three  general  subjects  must  be 
offered.  At  least  one  of  these  must  be  chosen  from 
the  following:  Greek,  Latin,  Sanskrit,  Persian, 
German,  and  French.  If  a  candidate  wishes,  he 
may  choose  two  of  his  three  subjects  in  ancient 
language,  literature,  and  history,  or  in  modern  lan- 
guage, literature,  history,  and  economics.  The 
remaining  one  or  two  subjects  may  be  chosen  from 
a  dozen  courses  ranging  through  the  elements  of 
mathemathics,  natural  science,  law,  and  theology. 
This  range  of  choice  is  very  different  from  that  in 
America,  in  that  a  student  is  not  permitted  freely 
166 


THE   PASSMAN 

to  elect  subjects  without  reference  to  one  another. 
For  the  pass  degree,  no  considerable  originality  or 
grasp  of  the  subject  is  necessary,  any  more  than  for 
an  undistinguished  degree  in  an  American  college ; 
but  the  body  of  necessary  facts  is  pretty  sure  to  be 
well  ordered,  if  not  digested.  The  idea  of  group- 
ing electives  is  the  fundamental  difference  between 
English  and  American  education.  In  the  case  of 
the  honor  man  it  will  be  seen  to  be  of  chief  im- 
portance. 

In  order  to  take  the  Oxford  degree,  it  is  further 
necessary  to  be  in  residence  three  years,  and  a  man 
may  reside  four  years  before  going  up  for  his  final 
examination.  The  period  of  study  —  or  loafing  — 
may  be  broken  in  various  ways ;  and  it  is  charac- 
teristic that  though  a  man  may  anticipate  his  time 
and  take  his  last  examination  before  the  last  term 
of  his  third  year,  he  is  required  to  reside  at  the 
university,  studies  or  no  studies,  until  the  minimum 
residence  is  completed.  Nothing  could  indicate  » 
more  clearly  the  importance  which  is  attached  to 
the  merely  social  side  of  university  life. 

It  is,  in  fact,  as  a  social  being  that  the  passman f\ 
usually  shines.  You  may  know  him  most  often 
from  the  fact  that  you  sight  him  in  the  High  by 
a  waistcoat  of  many  colors.  At  night  he  is  apt 
to  evade  the  statutes  as  to  academicals ;  but  if  he 
167 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

wears  his  gown,  he  wraps  it  about  his  neck  as  if  it 
were  a  muffler,  and  tilts  his  mortar-board  at  all 
angles.  He  is  the  genius  of  the  fox  terrier  and 
the  bulldog  pipe;  he  rides  to  the  hounds,  and  is 
apt  in  evading  the  vice-chancellor's  regulations  as 
to  tandems  and  four-in-hands.  Or  perhaps  he  sits 
comfortably  in  his  rooms  discoursing  lightly  of  the 
impious  philosophies  that  are  the  studies  of  the 
classman,  and  writes  Horatian  verse  for  the  "  Isis  " 
^and  the  "  Oxford  Magazine."  He  does  anything, 
in  fact,  that  is  well-bred,  amusing,  and  not  too 
strenuous.  Curiously  enough,  it  sometimes  hap- 
pens that  he  does  sufficient  reading  on  his  own  ac- 
count to  give  him  no  little  real  culture.  Of  late 
there  has  been  a  reaction  in  favor  of  the  pass 
school  as  affording  a  far  better  general  education. 

If  the  passman  loiters  through  the  three  or  four 
years,  it  is  mainly  the  fault  —  or  the  virtue  —  of 
the  public  school  he  comes  from.  Of  late  the  best 
public  schools  have  had  so  strong  and  admirable 
an  influence  that  boys  have  often  been  kept  in 
them  by  their  parents  until  they  reach  the  age 
limit,  generally  nineteen.  By  this  time  they  have 
anticipated  most  of  the  studies  required  for  a  pass 
degree  in  the  university,  and  find  little  or  nothing 
to  do  when  they  go  up  but  to  evade  their  tutors 
and  to  u  reside."  It  is  by  this  means,  as  the  satir- 
168 


THE  PASSMAN 

ist  long  ago  explained,  that  Oxford  has  become  an 
institution  of  such  great  learning.     Every  fresh- 
V-  man  brings  to  it  a  little  knowledge  and  no  gradu- 
ate takes  any  away. 

There  is  reason  in  all  this.  In  the  first  place, 
as  I  have  said,  the  passman  is  the  historical  un- 
dergraduate, and  little  short  of  a  convulsion  could 
disestablish  him  —  that  is  the  best  of  British  rea- 
sons. Moreover,  to  be  scrupulously  just,  the  pass- 
man knows  quite  as  much  as  the  American  stu- 
dent who  barely  takes  a  degree  by  cramming  a 
few  hours  with  a  venal  tutor  before  each  of  his 
many  examinations,  and  perhaps  more  than  the 
larger  proportion  of  German  students  who  confine 
their  serious  interests  to  the  duel  and  the  Kneipe, 
and  never  graduate.  And  then,  the  Oxonian 
argues  amiably,  if  it  were  not  for  the  pass  schools, 
the  majority  of  the  passmen  would  not  come  to 
Oxford  at  all,  and  would  spend  their  impression- 
able period  in  some  place  of  much  less  amenity. 
Clearly,  they  learn  all  that  is  necessary  for  a  gen- 
tleman to  know,  and  are  perhaps  kept  from  a 
great  deal  that  is  dangerous  to  young  fellows  with 
money  and  leisure.  It  means  much  to  the  aristo- 
cracy and  nobility  of  England  that,  whatever  their 
ambitions  and  capacities,  they  are  encouraged  by 
the  pursuit  of  a  not  too  elusive  A.  B.  to  stay  four 
169 


AN  AMERICAN  AT   OXFORD 

years  in  the  university.  Even  the  ambitious  stu- 
dent profits  by  the  arrangement.  Wherever  his 
future  may  lie,  in  the  public  service,  in  law,  medi- 
cine, or  even  the  church,  it  is  of  advantage  to  know 
men  of  birth  and  position  —  of  far  greater  advan- 
tage, from  the  common  sensible  English  point  of 
view,  than  to  have  been  educated  in  an  atmosphere 
of  studious  enthusiasm  and  exact  scholarship. 


170 


II 

THE  HONOR  SCHOOLS 

THE  modern  extension  of  the  world's  know- 
ledge, with  the  corresponding  advance  in 
educational  requirements,  which  are  perhaps  the 
most  signal  results  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
could  not  fail  to  exert  a  powerful  influence  on  all 
university  teaching.  In  the  United  States,  the 
monument  to  its  influence  is  the  elective  system. 
In  England,  it  is  the  honor  schools.  Both  coun- 
tries felt  the  inadequacy  of  the  antique  pint-pot 
of  learning.  The  democratic  New  World  has  not 
dreamed  of  making  a  sharp  distinction  between 
the  indifferent  and  the  ambitious.  Under  the 
lead  of  the  scientific  spirit  of  the  German  uni- 
versities, it  has  placed  the  noblest  branches  of 
human  knowledge  on  a  par  with  the  least  twig  of 
science.  With  characteristic  conservatism  Eng- 
land kept  the  old  pint-pot  for  the  unscholarly,  to 
whom  its  contents  are  still  of  value,  though  ex- 
tending its  scope  to  suit  the  changing  spirit  of  the 
age ;  and  for  those  who  felt  the  new  ambitions 
it  made  new  pint-pots,  each  one  of  which  should 
171 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

contain  the  essence  gathered  from  a  separate  field 
of  learning.  The  new  pint-pots  are  the  honor 
schools,  and  the  children  of  the  new  ambition  are 
the  honor  men. 

The  honor  schools  of  Oxford  are  eight  in  num- 
ber. Here  again  the  English  conservatism  is 
evident.  The  oldest  of  them,  literas  humaniores, 
which  was  at  first  the  only  honor  school,  has 
for  its  subject-matter  a  thorough  view  of  classi- 
cal language,  literature,  and  thought.  It  is  an 
edition  de  luxe  of  the  old  pass  school.  Because 
of  the  nobility  of  its  proportions,  it  is  familiarly 
called  "  greats,"  and  it  justifies  its  name  by 
enrolling  almost  half  of  all  Oxford  candidates 
for  the  honor  degree.  An  overwhelming  majority 
of  famous  Oxford  graduates  have  taken  their 
degree  in  "  greats."  The  other  schools  are  some- 
times known  as  the  minor  schools.  Mathematics 
was  originally  a  part  of  the  school  in  literae  hu- 
maniores, but  was  soon  made  into  a  separate 
school.  Since  then  schools  have  been  established 
in  six  new  subjects  —  natural  science,  jurispru- 
dence, modern  history,  theology,  Oriental  studies, 
and  English.  Under  our  elective  system,  a  stu- 
dent continues  through  his  four  years,  choosing 
each  year  at  random,  or  as  the  fates  decree,  this, 
that,  or  the  other  brief  "  course."  Under  the 
172 


THE  HONOR  SCHOOLS 

honor  system  a  man  decides  sooner  or  later  which 
one  of  the  several  branches  he  most  desires,  and 
sets  out  to  master  it. 

An  Oxford  man's  decision  may  be  made  at  the 
outset;  but  far  the  larger  number  of  men  defer 
the  choice.  They  do  this  by  reading  for  modera- 
tions, for  pass  moderations  as  well  as  honor  mods 
may  be  followed  by  an  honor  school  at  finals. 
The  subject-matter  for  honor  mods  is,  roughly 
speaking,  the  same  as  for  pass  mods  —  the  classics 
and  kindred  studies ;  but  the  field  covered  is  con- 
siderably more  extended,  and  to  take  a  high  class 
the  student  is  required  to  exhibit  in  his  examina- 
tion papers  no  little  grasp  of  the  subjects  as  a 
whole,  and  if  possible  to  develop  his  own  individ- 
uality in  the  process.  Having  done  with  moder- 
ations, an  honor  man  is  forced  to  choose  a  final 
school.  The  logical  sequence  of  honor  mods  is 
literaB  humaniores ;  but  one  may  choose  instead 
modern  history,  theology,  Oriental  studies,  or 
English. 

The  men  who  commit  themselves  to  a  choice  at 
the  outset  are  those  who  go  in  for  science  or  juris- 
prudence. These  men  Lbegin  by  reading  for  a 
form  of  moderations  known  as  science  prelimi- 
naries or  jurisprudence  preliminaries. 

The  exact  sequence  of  examinations  is  fixed  only 
173 


AN   AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

by  common  sense.  The  school  of  history  is  open 
to  those  who  have  taken  pass  mods,  and  even  to 
those  who  have  taken  the  jurisprudence  prelimi- 
nary, though  mods  is  usually  preferred  in  order  to 
give  a  man  the  use  of  the  necessary  languages.  If 
a  science  man's  chief  work  is  to  be  in  astronomy 
or  physics,  which  require  some  mathematics,  he 
may  take  the  mathematical  mods,  and  devote  only 
the  second  half  of  his  course  to  science. 

Even  after  a  man  has  chosen  his  subject  and 
begun  to  work  on  it  with  his  tutor,  there  is  con- 
siderable range  of  election.  As  classical  mods  are 
supposed  to  cover  all  the  subjects  essential  to 
polite  education,  election  is  mainly  a  question  as 
to  the  ancient  authors  read.  If  a  man  knows  what 
final  school  he  is  to  enter,  he  may  choose  his 
authors  accordingly.  Thus,  a  history  man  chooses 
the  ancient  historians ;  a  man  who  intends  to  enter 
the  school  in  English  literature,  the  ancient  poets 
and  dramatists.  In  addition  to  such  authors,  all 
candidates  for  classical  mods  choose,  according  to 
their  future  needs,  one  of  four  subjects :  the  his- 
tory of  classical  literature,  comparative  classical 
philology,  classical  archaeology,  and  logic.  The 
preliminary  examinations  in  natural  science  and 
in  jurisprudence  are  concerned  with  a  general 
view  of  the  field,  and  thus  do  not  admit  of  much 
174 


THE   HONOR  SCHOOLS 

variation,  whatever  the  branch  to  be  pursued  later ; 
and  the  same  is  true  of  mathematical  moderations. 
A  man  who  chooses  any  one  of  these  three  honor 
schools  has  made  the  great  choice  of  bidding 
good-by  to  the  classics. 

In  the  final  schools  the  range  of  choice  is  greater 
than  at  moderations,  and  is  greater  in  some  schools 
than  in  others.  Literae  humaniores  offers  the 
least  scope  for  election.  The  reason  is  that  the 
subject-matter  is  a  synthetic  view  of  the  classic 
world  entire.  Still,  in  so  vast  a  field,  a  student 
perforce  selects,  laying  emphasis  on  those  aspects 
of  the  ancient  world  which  he  considers  (or  which 
he  expects  the  examining  board  to  consider)  of 
most  interest  and  importance.  It  has  been  ob- 
jected even  at  Oxford  that  such  a  course  of  study 
gives  a  student  little  or  no  training  in  exact  schol- 
arship. The  examination  statutes  accordingly  give 
a  choice  of  one  among  no  less  than  forty  special 
subjects,  the  original  sources  of  which  a  man  may 
thresh  out  anew  in  the  hope  of  adding  his  iota  to 
the  field  of  science ;  and,  on  six  months'  notice,  a 
student  may,  under  approval,  select  a  subject  of 
his  own.  The  unimportance  of  this  part  of  the 
"greats  "  curriculum  is  evident  in  the  fact  that  it 
is  recommended,  not  required. 

The  history  school  requires  the  student  to  cover 
175 


AN  AMEEICAN  AT  OXFORD 

the  constitutional  and  political  history  of  England 
entire,  political  science  and  economy,  with  economic 
history,  constitutional  law,  and  political  and  de- 
scriptive geography.  It  also  requires  a  special 
subject  "  carefully  studied  with  reference  to  the 
original  authorities,"  and  a  period  of  general  his- 
tory. If  a  student  does  not  aim  at  a  first  or  sec- 
ond class  at  graduation,  he  may  omit  certain  parts 
of  all  this.  In  any  case,  he  has  to  choose  from 
the  general  history  of  the  modern  world  one  special 
period  for  a  more  detailed  examination.  In  the 
school  of  natural  science,  the  student,  after  filling 
in  the  broad  outlines  of  the  subject  for  his  pre- 
liminary, must  choose  for  his  final  examination 
one  of  the  following  seven  subjects  :  physics,  chem- 
istry, animal  physiology,  zoology,  botany,  geology, 
and  astronomy.  Besides  the  written  examination, 
a  "  practical "  examination  of  three  hours  is  re- 
quired to  show  the  student's  ability  at  laboratory 
work.  These  three  honor  schools  are  the  most 
important,  and  may  be  regarded  as  representative. 
After  a  man  has  taken  one  honor'  degree,  for 
example,  in  literae  humaniores,  he  may  take  an- 
other, for  example,  in  modern  history.  He  then 
becomes  a  double  honor  man,  and  if  he  has  got  a 
first  class  in  both  schools,  he  is  a  "  double  first." 
In  America,  the  election  of  studies  goes  by  frag- 
176 


THE  HONOR  SCHOOLS 

mentary  subjects,  and  the  degree  is  awarded  for 
passing  some  four  such  subjects  a  year,  the  whole 
number  being  as  disconnected,  even  chaotic,  as  the 
student  pleases  or  as  chance  decrees.  In  England, 
the  degree  is  granted  for  final  proficiency  in  a 
coherent  and  well-balanced  course  of  study;  but 
within  this  not  unreasonable  limit  there  is  the 
utmost  freedom  of  election.  The  student  first 
chooses  what  honor  school  he  shall  pursue,  and 
then  chooses  the  general  lines  along  which  he  shall 
pursue  it. 


177 


Ill 

THE  TUTOR 

IN  preparing  for  his  two  "  public  examinations," 
the  pupil  is  solely  in  the  hands  of  a  college 
tutor.  Any  familiar  account  of  the  Oxford  don  is 
apt  to  make  him  appear  to  the  American,  and  espe- 
cially to  the  German  mind,  a  sufficiently  humble 
person.  His  first  duty  is  the  very  unprofessional 
one  of  making  newcomers  welcome.  He  invites 
his  pupils  to  breakfast  and  to  dinner,  and  intro- 
duces them  to  their  fellows  so  that  they  shall  enter 
easily  into  the  life  of  the  college ;  he  tells  them 
to  go  in  for  one  or  another  of  the  various  under- 
graduate activities.  As  a  teacher,  moreover,  his 
position  is  strikingly  similar  to  that  of  the  venal 
tutors  in  our  universities,  who  amiably  keep  lame 
ducks  from  halting,  and  temper  the  frost  of  the 
examination  period  to  gilded  grasshoppers.  It  is 
all  this  that  makes  the  American  scholar  so  apt  to 
smile  at  the  tutor,  and  the  German,  perhaps,  to 
sniff.  The  tutor  is  not  easily  put  down.  If  he 
1  replies  with  anything  more  than  a  British  silence, 
it  is  to  say  that  after  all  education  cannot  be  quite 
178 


THE  TUTOR 

dissociated  from  a  man's  life  among  his  fellows. 
And  then  there  is  the  best  of  all  English  reasons 
why  the  tutor  should  think  well  of  his  vocation :  it 
is  approved  by  custom  and  tradition.  Newman, 
Pusey,  Jowett,  Pater,  Stubbs,  Lang,  and  many 
such  were  tutors,  and  they  thought  it  well  worth 
while  to  spend  the  better  part  of  each  day  with 
their  pupils. 

Homely  as  are  the  primary  duties  of  the  tutor, 
it  is  none  the  less  necessary  that  certain  infor- 
mation should  be  imparted.  The  shadow  of  the 
examiners  looms  across  the  path  twice  in  the  three 
or  four  years  of  an  undergraduate's  life.  There 
is  no  dodging  it :  in  order  to  get  a  degree,  certain 
papers  must  be  written  and  well  written.  Here 
is  where  the  real  dignity  of  the  tutor  resides,  the 
attribute  that  distinguishes  him  from  all  German  ; 
and  American  teachers.  He  is  responsible  to  the  % 
college  that  his  pupils  shall  acquit  themselves  well 
before  the  examiners,  —  that  the  reputation  of  the 
college  shall  be  maintained.  By  the  same  token, 
the  examiners  are  responsible  to  the  university 
that  its  degrees  shall  be  justly  awarded,  so  that 
the  course  of  education  in  England  is  a  struggle 
of  tutor  against  examiner.  In  Germany  and  in 
America,  an  instructor  is  expected  to  be  a  master 
of  his  subject ;  he  may  be  or  may  not  be  —  and 
179 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

usually  is  not  —  a  teacher.  In  England,  a  tutor 
may  be  a  scholar,  and  often  is  not.  His  success 
is  measured  first  and  foremost  by  the  excellence  of 
the  papers  his  pupils  write.  Is  Donkin  of  Balliol 
a  good  tutor  ?  Well,  rather,  he  has  got  more  firsts 
than  any  don  in  Oxford ;  by  which  is  meant  of 
course  that  his  pupils  have  got  the  firsts.  A  col- 
lege is  rated  partly  by  its  number  of  blues  and 
partly  by  its  number  of  firsts.  For  a  tutor  to  lead 
his  pupils  to  success  is  as  sacred  a  duty  as  for  an 
athletic  undergraduate  to  play  for  the  university. 
The  leisurely,  not  to  say  loafing,  tutor  of  eigh- 
teenth-century tradition  has  been  reformed  out  of 
existence.  If  the  modern  tutor  fails  of  any  high 
attainment  as  a  scholar,  it  is  mainly  because  he  is 
required  to  be  a  very  lively,  strenuous,  and  effi- 
cient leader  of  youth. 

The  means  by  which  the  tutor  conducts  his 
charges  in  the  narrow  path  to  success  in  the  schools 
are  characteristic.  The  secret  lies  in  gaining  the 
good-will  of  the  pupil.  Thus  any  breakfasts, 
luncheons,  and  dinners  that  the  hospitable  tutor 
gives  to  his  pupils  while  they  are  learning  the 
ways  of  the  place  are  bread  cast  upon  the  waters 
in  a  very  literal  sense.  For  a  decent  fellow  to 
neglect  the  just  wishes  of  a  teacher  to  whom  he  is 
indebted  is  easy  enough  on  occasions;  but  syste- 
180 


THE  TUTOR 

matically  to  shirk  a  genuine  debt  of  gratitude  with- 
out losing  caste  with  one's  self  requires  supreme 
ingenuity.  If  you  don't  want  to  get  into  the 
clutches  of  your  tutor,  don't  take  the  least  chance 
of  getting  to  like  him.  This  is  the  soundest  ad- 
vice ever  given  by  the  wary  upper  classman.  It 
has  not  been  ordained  by  nature  that  the  soul  of 
the  teacher  is  sib  to  the  soul  of  the  taught,  but 
clearly,  by  exercising  the  humanities,  the  irre- 
pressible conflict  may  be  kept  within  bounds. 

\/  Sometimes    harsher    measures     are    necessary. 

'  Then  a  man  is  sent  up  to  the  Head  of  the  college, 
which  is  not  at  all  a  promotion.  One  fellow  used 
to  tell  a  story  of  how  Jowett,  the  quondam  master 
of  Balliol,  chastised  him.  When  he  reported,  the 
Master  was  writing,  and  merely  paused  to  say : 
"  Sit  down,  Mr.  Barnes,  you  are  working  with  Mr. 
tft&JJil,  are  you  not  ?  "  The  culprit  said  he  was, 
and  sat  down.     Jowett  wrote  on,  page  after  page,  l 

while  the  undergraduate  fidgeted.     Finally  Jbwett *ft  /Wf * 
looked  up  and  remarked  :  "  Mr.  Be*3«Ji  says  you  I 
are  not.     Good-morning."     After  that  the  under- 
graduate was   more   inclined   to   work    with   Mr. 
Ecmhin.    V 

For  graver  offenses  a  man  is  imprisoned  within 
the  paradise  behind  the  college  walls  —  "  gated," 
the  term  is.     One  fellow  I  knew  —  a  third  year 
181 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

man  who  roomed  out  of  college  —  was  obliged  to 
lodge  in  the  rooms  of  the  dean,  Mr.  J.  L.  Stra- 
chan  Davidson.  The  two  turned  out  excellent 
friends.  No  one  could  be  altogether  objection- 
able, the  undergraduate  explained,  whose  whiskey 
and  tobacco  were  as  good  as  the  dean's.  In  ex- 
treme cases  a  man  may  be  sent  down,  but  if  this 
happens,  he  must  either  have  the  most  unfortunate 
of  dispositions,  or  the  skin  of  a  rhinoceros  against 
tact  and  kindness. 

It  is  by  similar  means  that  the  don  maintains 
his  intellectual  ascendency.  Nothing  is  more  for- 
eign to  Oxford  than  an  assumption  of  pedagogic 
authority.  Mr.  Hilaire  Belloc,  who  is  now  not 
unknown  in  London  as  a  man  of  letters,  used  to 
tell  of  a  memorable  encounter  with  Jowett.  Mr. 
Belloc  was  holding  forth  in  his  vein  of  excellent 
enthusiasm  with  regard  to  his  countrymen.  For  a 
long  time  Jowett  listened  with  courteously  quali- 
fied assent,  but  finally  said :  "  Mr.  Belloc,  do  you 
know  the  inscription  which  is  said  to  stand  above 
the  gate  to  Hell  ?  "  Mr.  Belloc  was  ready  with 
•the  familiar  line  from  Dante.  "  No,  Mr.  Belloc, 
Id  on  parle  frangais."  The  oratory  of  even  a 
president  of  the  Oxford  Union  broke  down  in 
laughter.  Under  such  a  system  a  mutual  confi- 
dence increases  day  by  day  between  teacher  and 
182 


THE  TUTOR 

taught,  which  may  end  in  a  comradeship  more  inti- 
mate than  that  between  father  and  son. 

Our  universities  are  fast  adopting  the  German 
or  pseudo-German  idea  that  an  advanced  educa- 
tion consists  merely  in  mastering  the  subject  one 
may  choose  to  pursue.  The  point  of  departure  is 
the  "course."  If  we  gain  the  acquaintance  of 
Lowell  or  Longfellow,  Agassiz,  Child,  or  Norton, 
we  have  to  thank  our  lucky  stars.  In  England, 
the  social  relationship  is  the  basis  of  the  system 
of  instruction. 


183 


IV 

READING  FOR  EXAMINATIONS 

HOW  easy  is  the  course  of  Oxford  discipline 
on  the  whole  is  evident  in  the  regulations 
as  to  the  times  for  taking  the  examinations.  The 
earliest  date  when  a  man  may  go  up  for  modera- 
tions is  his  fifth  term  after  matriculation.  As 
there  are  four  terms  a  year,  this  earliest  date  falls 
at  the  outset  of  his  second  year.  For  a  passman 
there  is  apparently  no  time  beyond  which  it  is  for- 
bidden to  take  mods,  or  finals  either.  An  honor 
man  may  repeat  his  attempts  at  mods  until  eight 
terms  are  gone  —  two  full  and  pleasant  years ;  that 
is,  he  may  take  mods  in  any  of  three  terms  —  al- 
most an  entire  year.  For  finals  he  may  go  up  as 
early  as  his  eleventh  term,  and  as  late  as  his  six- 
teenth —  giving  a  latitude  of  more  than  a  year.  If 
he  wishes  to  take  a  final  examination  in  a  second 
subject,  he  may  do  so  up  to  his  twentieth  term. 
Clearly,  the  pupil's  work  is  done  without  pressure 
other  than  the  personal  influence  of  the  tutor. 
When  an  American  student  fails  to  pass  his  ex- 
aminations on  the  hour,  he  is  disclassed  and  put  on 
184 


READING  FOR  EXAMINATIONS 

probation,  the  penalty  of  which  is  that  he  cannot 
play  on  any  of  the  athletic  teams.  On  this  point, 
at  least,  the  Oxford  system  of  discipline  is  not  the 
less  childish  of  the  two. 

As  to  the  nature  of  the  work  done,  it  is  aptly 
expressed  in  the  Oxford  term,  "  reading."  The 
aim  is  not  merely  to  acquire  facts.  From  week  to 
week  the  tutor  is  apt  to  meet  his  pupils,  and  espe- 
cially the  less  forward  ones,  in  familiar  conversa- 
tion, often  over  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  cigarette.  He 
listens  to  the  report  of  what  the  pupil  has  lately 
been  reading,  asks  questions  to  see  how  thor- 
oughly he  has  comprehended  it,  and  advises  him 
as  to  what  to  read  next.  When  there  are  several 
pupils  present,  the  conference  becomes  general, 
and  thus  of  greater  advantage  to  all.  In  the  dis- 
cussions that  arise,  opposing  views  are  balanced, 
phrases  are  struck  out  and  fixed  in  mind,  and  the 
sum  of  the  pupil's  knowledge  is  given  order  and 
consistency.  The  best  tutors  consciously  aim  at 
such  a  result,  for  it  makes  all  the  difference  be- 
tween a  brilliant  and  a  dull  examination  paper, 
and  the  examiners  highly  value  this  difference. 

The  staple  of  tutorial  instruction  is  lectures.    In 

the  old  days  the  colleges  were  mutually  exclusive 

units,  each  doing  the  entire  work  of   instruction 

for  its  pupils.     This  arrangement  was  obviously 

185 


AN   AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

wasteful,  in  that  it  presupposed  a  complete  and 
adequate  teaching  force  in  each  of  the  twenty 
colleges.  Latterly,  a  system  of  "intercollegiate 
lectures*'  has  been  devised,  under  which  a  tutor 
lectures  only  on  his  best  subjects  and  welcomes 
pupils  from  other  colleges.  These  intercollegiate 
tutorial  lectures  are  quite  like  lecture  courses  at  an 
American  college,  except  that  they  are  not  used  as 
a  means  of  police  regulation.  Attendance  is  not 
compulsory,  and  there  are  no  examinations.  A  man 
issues  from  the  walls  of  his  college  for  booty,  and 
comes  back  with  what  he  thinks  he  can  profit  by. 

The  importance  of  the  university  examinations 
is  thus  proportionate  to  their  rarity.  The  exam- 
iners are  chosen  from  the  best  available  members 
of  the  teaching  force  of  the  university ;  they  are 
paid  a  very  considerable  salary,  and  the  term  of 
service  is  of  considerable  length.  The  prepara- 
tion for  the  examination,  at  least  as  regards  honor 
men,  has  a  significance  impossible  under  our  sys- 
tem. Matters  of  fact  are  regarded  mainly  as 
determining  whether  a  man  shall  or  shall  not  get 
his  degree ;  the  class  he  receives  —  there  are  four 
classes  —  depends  on  his  grasp  of  facts  and  upon 
the  aptitude  of  his  way  of  writing.  No  man  can 
get  either  a  first  or  a  second  class  whose  know- 
ledge has  not  been  assimilated  into  his  vitals,  and 
186 


READING  FOR  EXAMINATIONS 

who  has  not  attained  in  some  considerable  degree 
the  art  of  expression  in  language. 

One  of  the  incidents  of  reading  is  a  set  of 
examinations  set  by  the  colleges  severally.  They 
take  place  three  times  a  year,  at  the  end  of  each 
term,  and  are  called  collections  —  apparently  from 
the  fact  that  at  this  time  certain  college  fees  used 
to  be  collected  from  the  students.  The  papers  are 
set  by  the  dons,  and  as  is  the  case  with  all  tutorial 
exercises,  the  results  have  nothing  at  all  to  do  with 
the  class  a  man  receives  in  the  public  examinations 
—  mods  and  finals.  I  was  surprised  to  find  that 
it  was  rather  the  rule  to  crib ;  and  my  inquiries 
disclosed  a  very  characteristic  state  of  affairs.  One 
man,  who  was  as  honorable  in  all  respects  as  most 
fellows,  related  how  he  had  been  caught  cribbing. 
His  tutor  took  the  crib  and  examined  it  carefully. 
"  Quite  right,"  he  said.  "In  fact,  excellent.  Don't 
be  at  any  pains  to  conceal  it.  By  the  finals,  of 
course,  you  will  have  to  carry  all  these  things  in 
your  head;  at  present,  all  we  want  to  know  is 
how  well  you  can  write  an  examination  paper." 
The  emphasis  as  to  the  necessity  of  knowing  how 
to  write  was  quite  as  genuine  as  the  sarcasm.  These 
examinations  have  a  further  interest  to  Americans. 
They  are  probably  a  debased  survival  of  exami- 
nations which  in  centuries  past  were  a  police  reg- 
187 


AN  AMERICAN   AT   OXFOED 

ulation  to  test  a  student's  diligence,  and  thus  had 
some  such  relation  to  a  degree  as  our  hour  ex- 
aminations, midyears,  and  finals.  In  other  words, 
they  suggest  a  future  utility  for  our  present  mid- 
years and  finals,  if  ever  a  genuine  honor  examina- 
tion is  made  requisite  for  an  American  honor 
degree. 

For  the  greater  part  of  his  course,  an  under- 
graduate's reading  is  by  no  means  portentous.  It 
was  Dr.  Johnson,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  whose  aim 
was  "  five  good  hours  a  day."  At  Oxford,  this  is 
the  maximum  which  even  a  solid  reading  man  re- 
quires of  himself.  During  term  time  most  men 
do  much  less,  for  here  is  another  of  the  endlessly 
diverting  Oxford  paradoxes :  passman  and  class- 
man alike  aim  to  do  most  of  their  reading  in  vaca- 
tions. As  usual,  a  kernel  of  common  sense  may 
be  found.  If  the  climate  of  England  is  as  little 
favorable  to  a  strenuous  intellectual  life  as  it  is 
to  strenuous  athleticisms,  the  climate  of  Oxford  is 
the  climate  of  England  to  the  nth.  power.  A  man's 
intellectual  machinery  works  better  at  home  in  the 
country.  And  even  as  the  necessity  of  relaxation 
is  greater  at  Oxford,  so  is  the  chance  of  having 
fun  and  of  making  good  friends  —  of  growing  used 
to  the  ways  of  the  world  of  men.  The  months  at 
the  university  are  the  heyday  of  life.  The  home 
188   ' 


READING  FOR   EXAMINATIONS 

friends  and  the  home  sports  are  the  same  yesterday 
and  forever.  The  university  clearly  recognizes  all 
this.  It  rigidly  requires  a  man  to  reside  at  Oxford 
a  certain  definite  time  before  graduation ;  but  how 
and  when  he  studies  and  is  examined,  it  leaves 
to  his  own  free  choice.  A  man  reads  enough 
at  Oxford  to  keep  in  the  current  of  tutorial 
instruction,  and  to  get  on  the  trail  of  the  books 
to  be  wrestled  with  in  vacation. 


189    ' 


V 

THE  EXAMINATION 

WHEN  mods  and  finals  approach,  the  tune 
is  altered.  Weeks  and  months  together 
the  fellows  dig  and  dig,  morning,  noon,  and  night. 
All  sport  and  recreation  is  now  regarded  only  as 
sustaining  the  vital  forces  for  the  ordeal.  Some- 
times, in  despair  at  the  distractions  of  Oxford  life, 
*  knots  of  fellow  sufferers  form  reading  parties,  gain 
permission  to  take  a  house  together  in  the  country, 
and  draw  up  a  code  of  terrible  penalties  against 
the  man  who  suggests  a  turn  at  whist,  the  for- 
bidden cup,  or  a  trip  to  town.  From  the  simplest 
tutorial  cram-book  to  the  profoundest  available 
monograph,  no  page  is  left  unturned.  And  this 
is  only  half.  The  motto  of  Squeers  is  altered. 
When  a  man  knows  a  thing,  he  goes  and  writes  it. 
Passages  apt  for  quotation  are  learned  by  rote; 
phrases  are  polished  until  they  are  luminous ; 
periods  are  premeditated  ;  paragraphs  and  sections 
prevised.  An  apt  epigram  turns  up  in  talk  or  in 
reading  —  the  wary  student  jots  it  down,  polishes 
it  to  a  point,  and  keeps  it  in  ambush  to  dart  it  at 
190 


THE   EXAMINATION 

this  or  that  possible  question.  One  man  I  knew 
was  electrified  with  Chaucer's  description  of  the 
Sergeant  of  the  Law,  — 

No  wher  so  bisy  a  man  as  lie  ther  nas, 
And  yet  he  semed  bisier  than  he  was  ;  — 

and  fell  into  despair  because  he  could  not  think  of 
any  historical  personage  in  his  subject-matter  to 
whom  it  might  aptly  apply.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  was  Alfred  the  Great,  whose  character  was 
sure  to  be  asked  for.  Did  I  know  any  line  of 
Chaucer  that  would  hit  off  Alfred  the  Great  ?  So 
unusual  to  quote  Chaucer. 

All  this  sort  of  thing  has,  of  course,  its  limits. 
In  the  last  days  of  preparation,  the  brains  are  few 
that  do  not  reel  under  their  weight  of  sudden 
knowledge ;  the  minds  are  rare  that  are  not  dazzled 
by  their  own  unaccustomed  brilliance.  The  super- 
latively trained  athlete  knocks  off  for  a  day  or  two- 
before  an  important  contest  —  and  perhaps  has  a 
dash  at  the  flesh-pots  by  way  of  relaxing  tension 
from  the  snapping  point.  So  does  the  over-read 
examinee.  He  goes  home  to  his  sisters  and  his 
aunts,  and  to  all  the  soothing  wholesomeness  of 
English  country  life. 

And  then  that  terrible  week  of  incessant  exami- 
nations!    All  the  facts  and  any  degree  of  style 
will  fail  to  save  a  man  unless  he  has  every  resource 
191 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

ready  at  command.  No  athletic  contest,  perhaps 
no  battle,  could  be  a  severer  test  of  courage.  Life 
does  not  depend  upon  the  examination,  but  a  living 
may.  In  America,  degrees  are  more  and  more 
despised ;  but  in  England,  it  still  pays  to  disar- 
range the  alphabet  at  the  end  of  one's  name,  or 
to  let  it  be  known  to  a  prospective  employer  that 
one  is  a  first-class  honor  man.  The  nature  of  the 
young  graduate's  employment  and  his  salary  too 
have  a  pretty  close  correspondence  with  his  class 
at  graduation.  If  he  can  add  a  blue  to  a  first,  the 
world  is  his  oyster.  The  magnitude  of  the  issue 
makes  the  examinee  —  or  breaks  him.  Brilliant 
and  laborious  students  too  often  come  off  with  a 
bare  third,  and  happy  audacity  has  as  often  brought 
the  careless  a  first.  It  may  seem  that  the  ordeal 
is  unnecessarily  severe  ;  but  even  here  the  reason 
may  be  found,  if  it  be  only  granted  that  the  aim 
of  a  university  is  to  turn  out  capable  men.  The 
honor  examination  requires  some  knowledge,  more 
address,  and  most  of  all  pluck  —  pluck  or  be 
plucked,  as  the  Cambridge  phrase  is ;  and  these 
things  in  this  order  are  what  count  in  the  life  of 
the  British  Empire. 


192 


VI 

OXFORD  QUALITIES  AND  THEIR  DEFECTS 

UNDER  the  German-American  system,  the 
main  end  is  scholarly  training.  Our  gradu- 
ates are  apt  to  have  the  Socratic  virtue  of  knowing 
how  little  they  know  —  and  perhaps  not  much  be- 
sides. Even  for  the  scholar  this  knowledge  is  not 
all.  Though  the  English  undergraduate  is  not 
taught  to  read  manuscripts  and  decipher  inscrip- 
tions —  to  trace  out  knowledge  in  its  sources  —  the 
examination  system  gives  him  the  breadth  of  view 
and  mental  grasp  which  are  the  only  safe  founda- 
tions of  scholarship.  If  he  contributes  to  science, 
he  usually  does  so  after  he  has  left  the  university. 
The  qualities  which  then  distinguish  him  are  rare 
among  scholars  —  sound  common  sense  and  catho- 
licity of  judgment.  Such  qualities,  for  instance, 
enabled  an  Oxford  classical  first  to  recognize  Schlie- 
mann's  greatness  while  yet  the  German  universities 
could  only  see  that  he  was  not  an  orthodox  re- 
searcher according  to  their  standards.  If  a  man 
were  bent  on  obtaining  the  best  possible  scholarly 
training,  he  probably  could  not  do  better  than  to 
193 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

take  an  English  B.  A.  and  then  a  German  or  an 
American  Ph.  D.  As  for  the  world  of  deeds  and 
of  men,  the  knowledge  which  is  power  is  that 
which  is  combined  with  address  and  pluck ;  and 
the  English  system  seems  based  on  practical  sense, 
in  that  it  lays  chief  stress  on  producing  this  rare 
combination. 

To  attribute  to  the  honor  schools  the  success 
with  which  Englishmen  have  solved  the  problems 
of  civic  government  and  colonial  administration 
would  be  to  ignore  a  multitude  of  contributory 
causes  ;  but  the  honor  schools  are  highly  charac- 
teristic of  the  English  system,  and  are  responsible 
for  no  small  part  of  its  success.  A  striking  illus- 
tration of  this  may  be  seen  in  the  part  which  the 
periodical  press  plays  in  public  affairs.  In  Amer- 
ica, nothing  is  rarer  than  a  writer  who  combines 
broad  information  with  the  power  of  clear  and 
convincing  expression.  The  editor  of  any  seri- 
ous American  publication  will  bear  me  out  in  the 
observation  that,  notwithstanding  the  multitude  of 
topics  of  the  deepest  and  most  vital  interest,  it  is 
difficult  to  find  any  one  to  treat  them  adequately  ; 
and  any  reader  can  satisfy  himself  on  this  point 
by  comparing  the  best  of  our  periodicals  with  the 
leading  English  reviews.  Now  the  writing  of  a 
review  article  requires  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
194 


OXFORD   QUALITIES   AND  DEFECTS 

the  writing  of  a  first-class  examination  paper,  even 
to  the  element  of  pluck ;  for  to  marshal  the  full 
forces  of  the  mind  in  the  pressure  of  public  life 
or  of  journalism  requires  self-command  in  a  very 
high  degree.  The  same  thing  is  as  obvious  in  the 
daily  papers.  The  world  is  filled  with  English 
newspaper  men  who  combine  with  reportorial  train- 
ing the  power  of  treating  a  subject  briefly  and  tell- 
ingly in  its  broadest  relations. 

The  public  advantage  of  this  was  not  long  ago 
very  aptly  exemplified.  When  our  late  war  sud- 
denly brought  us  face  to  face  with  the  fact  that 
our  national  destiny  had  encountered  the  destinies 
of  the  great  nations  of  the  world,  the  most  thought- 
ful people  were  those  who  felt  most  doubt  and 
uncertainty;  the  more  one  considered,  the  less 
could  one  say  just  what  he  thought.  At  that 
crisis  a  very  clear  note  was  sounded.  The  London 
correspondents  of  our  papers  —  Englishmen,  and 
for  the  most  part  honor  men  —  presented  the  issue 
to  us  from  British  and  imperialistic  point  of  view 
with  a  vigor  and  conviction  that  had  immediate 
effect,  as  we  all  remember,  and  gave  the  larger 
part  of  the  nation  a  new  view  of  the  crisis,  and  a 
new  name  for  it.  It  was  not  until  weeks  later  that 
our  own  most  thoughtful  writers  as  a  body  per- 
ceived the  essential  difference  between  our  position 
195 


AN  AMERICAN  AT   OXFORD 

and  that  of  Great  Britain,  and  we  have  scarcely 
yet  discarded  the  word  "  imperialism."  The  know- 
ledge, address,  and  pluck  —  or  shall  we  call  it 
audacity?  —  of  the  English  correspondents  enabled 
them  to  make  a  stroke  of  state  policy.  This  is 
only  one  of  many  citable  instances. 

To  the  robustious  intelligence  of  the  honor  man, 
it  must  be  admitted,  the  finer  enthusiasm  of  sci- 
entific culture  is  likely  to  be  a  sealed  book.  The 
whole  system  of  education  is  against  it.  Even  if 
a  student  is  possessed  by  the  zeal  for  research,  few 
tutors,  in  their  pursuit  of  firsts,  scruple  to  dis- 
courage it.  "  That  is  an  extremely  interesting 
point,  but  it  will  not  count  for  schools."  One  stu- 
dent in  a  discussion  with  his  tutor  quoted  a  novel 
opinion  of  Schwegler's,  and  was  confuted  with  the 
remark,  "  Yes,  but  that  is  the  German  view."  It 
is  this  tutor  who  is  reported  to  have  remarked: 
"  What  I  like  about  my  subject  is  that  when  you 
know  it  you  know  it,  and  there  's  an  end  of  it." 
His  subject  was  that  tangle  of  falsehood  and  mis- 
conception called  history.  It  must,  of  course,  be 
remembered  in  extenuation  that  with  all  his  social 
and  tutorial  duties,  the  don  is  very  hard  worked. 
And  considering  the  pressure  of  the  necessary  pre- 
paration for  schools,  the  temptation  to  shun  the 
byways  is  very  great. 

196 


OXFORD  QUALITIES  AND  DEFECTS 

The  examining  board  for  each  school  is  elected 
by  the  entire  faculty  of  that  school  from  its  own 
members ;  and  though  it  is  scarcely  possible  for  an 
unscrupulous  examiner  to  frame  the  questions  to 
suit  his  own  pupils,  there  is  nothing  to  prevent  the 
tutor  from  framing  his  pupils'  knowledge  to  meet 
the  presumptive  demands  of  the  examiners.  "  We 
shall  have  to  pay  particular  attention  to  Scottish 
history,  for  Scotus  is  on  the  board,  and  that  is  his 
hobby."  In  the  school  of  literae  humaniores,  no 
one  expects  either  pupil  or  tutor  to  go  far  into 
textual  criticism,  philology,  or  archaeology.  These 
branches  are  considered  only  as  regards  their  re- 
sults. In  history,  a  special  subject  has  to  be  studied 
with  reference  to  its  original  sources,  but  its  rela- 
tive importance  is  small,  and  a  student  is  discour- 
aged from  spending  much  time  on  it.  Stubbs's 
"  Select  Charters  "  are  the  only  original  documents 
required,  and  even  with  regard  to  these  all  conclu- 
sions are  cut  and  dried. 

To  be  sure  there  is  a  science  school,  but  few  men 
elect  it,  and  it  is  in  distinctly  bad  odor.  In  the 
slang  of  the  university  it  is  known  as  "  stinks/' 
and  its  laboratories  as  "  stink  shops."  One  must 
admit  that  its  unpopularity  is  deserved.  As  it  is 
impossible  that  each  of  the  twenty  colleges  should 
have  complete  apparatus,  the  laboratories  are  main- 
197 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

tained  by  the  university,  and  not  well  maintained, 
for  the  wealth  of  Oxford  is  mainly  in  the  coffers 
of  the  colleges.  The  whole  end  of  laboratory  work 
at  Oxford  is  to  prepare  the  student  for  a  "  practi- 
cal examination  "  of  some  three  hours.  The  Lin- 
acre  professor  has  made  many  strenuous  efforts, 
and  has  delivered  much  pointed  criticism,  but  he 
has  not  yet  been  able  to  place  the  school  on  a 
modern  or  a  rational  basis.  In  his  nostrils,  per- 
haps, more  than  those  of  the  university,  the  school 
of  science  is  unsavory. 

Many  subjects  of  the  highest  practical  impor- 
tance are  entirely  ignored.  No  advanced  instruc- 
tion is  offered  in  modern  languages  and  literatures 
except  English,  and  the  school  in  English  is  only 
six  years  old  and  very  small.  No  one  of  the  tech- 
nical branches  that  are  coming  to  be  so  prominent 
a  part  of  American  university  life  is  as  yet  recog- 
nized. 

The  Oxford  honor  first  knows  what  he  knows 
and  sometimes  he  knows  more.  Few  things  are  as 
distressing  as  the  sciolism  of  a  second-rate  English 
editor  of  a  classic.  The  mint  sauce  quite  forgets 
that  it  is  not  Lamb.  The  English  minor  reviewer 
exhibits  the  pride  of  intellect  in  its  purest  form. 
The  don  perhaps  intensifies  these  amiable  foibles. 
There  is  an  epigram  current  in  Oxford  which  the 
198 


OXFORD   QUALITIES  AND  DEFECTS 

summer  guide  will  tell  you  Jowett  wrote  to  cele- 
brate his  own  attainments  :  — 

Here  I  am,  my  name  is  Jowett ; 

I  am  the  master  of  Balliol  College. 
All  there  is  to  know,  I  know  it. 

What  I  know  not  is  not  knowledge. 

This  is  clearly  a  satire  written  against  Jowett,  and 
it  would  be  more  clearly  a  legitimate  satire  if 
aimed  at  the  generality  of  dons. 


199 


VII 

THE  UNIVERSITY  AND  REFORM 

THIS  tale  of  Oxford  shortcomings  is  no  news 
to  the  English  radical.  The  regeneration 
of  the  university  has  long  been  advocated.  On  the 
one  hand,  the  reformers  have  tried  to  make  it  pos- 
sible, as  it  was  in  the  Middle  Ages,  to  live  and 
study  at  Oxford  without  being  attached  to  any 
of  the  colleges ;  on  the  other,  they  have  tried  to 
bring  into  the  educational  system  such  modern 
subjects  and  methods  of  study  as  are  cultivated  in 
Germany,  where  the  new  branches  have  been 
so  admirably  grafted  on  the  mediaeval  trunk.  In 
general  it  must  be  said  that  Oxford  is  becoming 
more  democratic  and  even  more  studious  ;  but  the 
advance  has  come  in  spite  of  the  constitution  of  the 
university.  All  studied  attempts  at  reform  have 
proved  almost  ludicrously  futile. 

In  order  to  combat  the  monopoly  of  the  colleges, 
and  to  build  up  a  body  of  more  serious  students 
without  their  walls,  a  new  order  of  "  unattached  " 
students  was  created.  The  experiment  has  no 
doubt  been  interesting,  but  it  cannot  be  said  that 
200 


THE  UNIVERSITY  AND   REFORM 

it  has  revived  the  glorious  democracy  and  the  intel- 
lectual enthusiasm  of  the  mediaeval  university. 
Few  things  could  be  lonelier,  or  more  profitless 
intellectually,  than  the  lot  of  the  unattached  stu- 
dents. Excluded  by  the  force  of  circumstances 
from  the  life  of  the  colleges,  they  have  no  more 
real  life  of  their  own  than  the  socially  unaffiliated 
in  American  universities.  They  have  been  forced 
to  imitate  the  organization  of  the  colleges.  They 
lunch  and  dine  one  another  as  best  they  can,  hold 
yearly  a  set  of  athletic  games,  and  place  a  boat  in 
the  college  bumping  races.  They  have  thus  come 
to  be  precisely  like  any  of  the  colleges,  except  that 
they  have  none  of  the  felicities,  social  or  intellec- 
tual, that  come  from  life  within  walls. 

From  time  to  time  the  introduction  of  new  honor 
schools  is  proposed  to  keep  pace  with  modern  learn- 
ing. A  long-standing  agitation  in  favor  of  a  school 
in  modern  languages  was  compromised  by  the 
founding  of  the  school  in  English ;  but  it  is  not 
yet  downed,  and  before  the  century  is  over  may 
yet  rise  to  smite  conservatism.  Coupled  with  this 
there  is  an  ever-increasing  desire  to  cultivate  re- 
search. As  yet  these  agitations  have  had  about 
as  much  effect  as  the  kindred  agitation  that  led  to 
the  rehabilitation  of  the  unattached  student. 

The  Bodleian  Library  is  a  treasure  chest  of  the 
201 


AN  AMERICAN  AT   OXFORD 

rarest  of  old  books  and  of  unexplored  documents ; 
but  nothing  in  the  Bod  counts  for  schools,  and  so 
the  shadow  of  an  undergraduate  darkens  the  door 
only  when  he  is  showing  off  the  university  to  his 
sisters  —  and  to  other  fellows'.  When  I  applied 
for  permission  to  read,  the  fact  that  I  wore  a  com- 
moner's gown,  as  I  was  required  to  by  statute 
while  reading  there,  almost  excluded  me.  If  I 
had  been  after  knowledge  useful  in  the  schools, 
no  doubt  I  should  have  been  obliged  to  consult  a 
choice  collection  of  well-approved  books  across  the 
way  in  the  camera  of  the  Radcliffe.  In  America, 
a  serious  student  is  welcome  to  range  in  the  stack, 
and  to  take  such  books  as  he  needs  to  his  own 
rooms.  Some  few  researchers  come  to  the  Bodleian 
from  the  world  without  to  spend  halcyon  days  be- 
neath the  brave  old  timber  roof  of  Duke  Hum- 
phrey's Library ;  but  any  one  used  to  the  freedom 
of  books  in  America  would  find  very  little  encour- 
agement to  do  so.  The  librarian  is  probably  an 
eminently  serviceable  man  according  to  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  Bodleian ;  but  there  are  times  when 
he  appears  to  be  a  grudging  autocrat  intrenched 
behind  antique  rules  and  regulations.  In  the 
Middle  Ages  it  was  the  custom  to  chain  the  books 
to  the  shelves,  as  one  may  still  observe  in  the 
quaint  old  library  of  Merton  College.  The  modern 
202 


THE  UNIVERSITY  AND  REFORM 

method  at  the  Bodleian  would  seem  to  be  a  refine- 
ment on  the  custom.  And  what  is  not  known 
about  the  Bodleian  in  the  Bodleian  would  fill  a 
library  almost  as  large.  In  the  picture  gallery- 
hangs  a  Van  Dyck  portrait  of  William  Herbert, 
Earl  of  Pembroke,  a  former  chancellor  of  the  uni- 
versity, a  nephew  of  Sir  Philip  Sydney,  son  of 
Mary,  Countess  of  Pembroke,  and  the  once  reputed 
patron  to  whom  Shakespeare  addressed  the  first 
series  of  his  sonnets.  The  librarian  did  not  know 
how  or  when  the  portrait  came  into  the  possession 
of  the  University,  or  whether  it  was  an  original ; 
and  not  being  required  to  know  by  statute,  he  did 
not  care  to  find  out,  and  did  not  find  out. 

The  crowning  absurdity  of  the  educational  sys- 
tem is  the  professors,  and  here  is  an  Oxford  para- 
dox as  yet  unredeemed  by  a  glimmering  of  rea- 
son. When  I  wanted  assistance  as  to  a  thesis 
on  which  I  was  working,  my  tutor  referred  me  to 
the  Regius  Professor  of  Modern  History,  who  he 
thought  would  be  more  likely  than  any  one  else  to 
know  about  the  sources  of  Elizabethan  literature. 

Few  as  are  the  professors,  they  are  all  too  many 
for  the  needs  of  Oxford.  They  are  learned  and 
ardent  scholars,  many  of  them  with  a  full  measure 
of  German  training  in  addition  to  Oxford  culture. 
But  in  proportion  as  they  are  wise  and  able  they 
203 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

are  lifted  out  of  the  life  of  the  university.  They 
lecture,  to  be  sure,  in  the  schools  ;  and  now  and 
then  an  undergraduate  evades  his  tutor  long 
enough  to  hear  them.  Several  young  women  may 
be  found  at  their  feet  —  students  from  Somerville 
and  Lady  Margaret.  When  the  subject  and  the 
lecturer  are  popular,  residents  of  the  town  drop  in. 
But  as  regards  the  great  mass  of  undergraduates, 
wisdom  crieth  in  the  streets.  The  professors  are 
as  effectually  shelved  as  ever  their  learned  books 
will  be  when  the  twentieth  century  is  dust.  "  The 
university,  it  is  true,"  Mr.  Brodrick  admits  in 
his  "  History  of  Oxford,"  "  has  yet  to  harmonize 
many  conflicting  elements  which  mar  the  symme- 
try of  its  institutions." 

This  torpor  in  which  the  university  lies  is  no 
mere  matter  of  accident.  I  quote  from  Mr.  Glad- 
stone's Romanes  Lecture,  delivered  in  1892  :  — 

"  The  chief  dangers  before  the  English  uni- 
versities are  probably  two :  one  that  in  [culti- 
vating ?]  research,  considered  as  apart  from  their 
teaching  office,  they  should  relax  and  consequently 
dwindle  [as  teachers  ?]  ;  the  other  that,  under 
pressure  from  without,  they  should  lean,  if  ever 
so  little,  to  that  theory  of  education,  which  would 
have  it  to  construct  machines  of  so  many  horse 
power  rather  than  to  form  character,  and  to  rear 
204 


THE  UNIVERSITY  AND  REFORM 

into  true  excellence  the  marvelous  creature  we  call 
man  ;  which  gloats  upon  success  in  life,  instead  of 
studying  to  secure  that  the  man  shall  ever  be 
greater  than  his  work,  and  never  bounded  by  it, 
but  that  his  eye  shall  boldly  run  — 

Along  the  line  of  limitless  desire." 

Few  will  question  the  necessity  of  rising  above 
the  sphere  of  mere  science  and  commercialism ; 
but  many  will  question  whether  the  way  to  rise  is 
not  rather  by  mastering  the  genius  of  the  century 
than  by  ignoring  it.  It  is  scarcely  too  much  to 
say  that  the  greatest  intellectual  movement  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  though  largely  the  work  of 
English  scientists,  has  left  no  mark  on  Oxford 
education.  If,  as  Professor  Von  Hoist  asserts, 
the  American  universities  are  hybrids,  Oxford 
and  Cambridge  cannot  be  called  universities  at 
all. 


205 


VIII 

THE  UNIVERSITY  AND  THE  PEOPLE 

AS  a  result  of  the  narrowness  of  the  scope 
Jl\-  of  Oxford  teaching,  the  university  has 
no  relation  to  the  industrial  life  of  the  people 
—  a  grave  shortcoming  in  a  nation  which  is  not 
unwilling  to  be  known  as  a  nation  of  shopkeepers. 
The  wail  of  the  British  tradesman  is  not  unfa- 
miliar. Wares  "  made  in  Germany "  undersell 
English  wares  that  used  to  command  the  market ; 
and  being  often  made  of  a  cheaper  grade  to  suit 
the  demands  of  purchasers,  the  phrase  "  made  in 
Germany  "  is  clearly  indicative  of  fraudulent  in- 
tention. 

Certain  instances  are  exceptionally  galling. 
Aniline  dyes  were  first  manufactured  from  the 
residuum  of  coal  tar  in  Great  Britain.  But  enter- 
prising Germany,  which  has  coal-fields  of  its  own, 
sent  apprentices  to  England  who  learned  the 
manufacture,  and  then  by  means  of  the  chemistry 
taught  in  the  German  universities,  revolutionized 
the  process,  and  discovered  how  to  extract  new 
colors  from  the  coal  tar,  so  that  now  the  bulk  of 
206 


THE  UNIVEKSITY  AND  THE  PEOPLE 

aniline  dyes  are  made  in  Germany.  Obviously, 
the  German  chemist  is  a  perfidious  person.  The 
Yankee  is  shrewd  and  well  taught  in  the  technical 
professions.  He  makes  new  and  quite  unexam- 
pled tools,  and  machinery  of  all  sorts.  It  takes 
the  Briton  some  years  to  be  sure  that  these  are 
not  iniquitous  —  a  Yankee  trick ;  but  in  the  end 
he  adopts  them.  Even  then,  to  the  Briton's  sur- 
prise, the  Yankee  competes  successfully.  A  com- 
mission (no  German  spy)  is  sent  to  America  to 
find  out  why,  and  on  its  return  gleefully  reports 
that  the  Yankee  works  his  tools  at  a  ruinous  rate, 
driving  them  so  hard  that  in  a  decade  it  will  be 
necessary  to  reequip  his  plant  entire.  At  the  end 
of  the  decade,  the  conservative  Englishman's  tools 
are  as  good  as  if  they  had  been  kept  in  cotton  bat- 
ting ;  but  by  this  time  the  Yankee  has  invented 
newer  and  more  economical  devices,  and  when  he 
reequips  his  plant  with  them  he  is  able  to  undersell 
the  English  producer  even  more  signally.  The 
honest  British  manufacturer  sells  his  old  tools  to 
an  unsuspecting  brother  in  trade  and  adopts  the 
new  ones.  The  Yankee  machinist  is  obviously  as 
perfidious  as  the  German  chemist.  The  upper 
middle  classes  in  England  realize  that  the  desti- 
nies of  Great  Britain  and  America  run  together, 
and  they  are  very  hospitable  to  Americans,  but 
207 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

the  industrial  population  hate  us  scarcely  less  than 
they  hate  the  Germans. 

All  this  is,  of  course,  not  directly  chargeable  to 
the  English  universities  :  but  the  fact  remains  that 
in  Germany  and  in  America  the  educational  sys- 
tem is  'the  most  powerful  ally  of  industry.  Here 
again  the  English  radical  is  on  his  guard.  From 
time  to  time,  in  letters  to  the  daily  papers  or 
political  speeches  before  industrial  audiences,  the 
case  is  very  clearly  stated.  In  a  recent  epistolary 
agitation  in  "  The  Times "  it  was  shown  that 
whereas.American  and  German  business  men  learn 
foreign  languages,  Englishmen  attempt  to  sell  their 
wares  by  means  of  interpreters,  and  do  not  even 
have  their  pamphlets  and  prospectuses  translated. 
Admitting  the  facts,  one  gentleman  gravely  urged 
that  if  only  the  English  would  stick  out  the  fight, 
their  language  would  soon  be  the  business  language 
of  the  world.  If  it  is  the  conscious  purpose  of  the 
nation  to  make  it  so,  it  might  be  of  advantage  to 
spell  the  language  as -it  has  been  pronounced  in 
the  centuries  since  Chaucer ;  already  with  some 
such  purpose  the  Germans  are  adopting  Roman 
characters.  But  at  least  it  will  be  many  decades 
before  English  is  the  Volapiik  of  business,  and 
meantime  England  is  losing  ground.  From  the 
point  of  view  of  the  mere  outsider,  it  would  seem 
208 


THE  UNIVERSITY  AND  THE  PEOPLE 

of  little  moment  to  England  what  language  is  used, 
if  the  profits  of  the  business  transacted  accrue  to 
Russian,  German,  and  American  corporations. 

It  has  even  been  strongly  urged  that  commercial 
and  technical  subjects  be  taught  in  the  universities. 
Cambridge  and  the  University  of  Glasgow  have 
already  a  fund  with  this  in  view;  and  the  new 
Midland  University  at  Birmingham,  of  which  Mr. 
Joseph  Chamberlain  is  chancellor,  is  to  be  mainly 
devoted  to  commercial  science  and  engineering. 
It  cannot  be  foretold  that  the  ancient  universities 
will  hold  their  own  against  the  modern.  In  a  speech 
at  Birmingham  (January  17,  1901),  Mr.  Cham- 
berlain said:  "Finance  is  the  crux  of  the  situa- 
tion. Upon  our  finance  depends  entirely  the  ex- 
tent to  which  we  shall  be  able  to  develop  this  new 
experiment.  With  us,  in  fact,  money  is  the  root 
■of  all  good.  I  am  very  glad  to  say  that  the  pro- 
mises of  donations  which,  when  I  last  addressed 
you,  amounted  to  £330,000,  have  risen  since  then 
to  an  estimated  amount  of  about  £410,000.  .  .  . 
Now  .£410,000  is  a  large  sum.  I  heard  the  other 
day  that  the  University  of  Cambridge,  which  has 
for  some  time  past  been  appealing  for  further  as- 
sistance, has  only  up  to  the  present  time  received 
£60,000.  I  most  deeply  regret  that  their  fund  is 
not  larger,  and  I  regret  also  that  ours  is  so  small." 
209 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

Oxford  has  apparently  not  entered  the  new  com- 
petition even  in  a  half-hearted  manner.  For  cen- 
turies it  has  been  the  resort  of  the  nobility  and 
aristocracy,  the  "governing  classes,"  and  though 
the  spirit  of  the  age  has  so  far  invaded  it  as  to 
have  been  in  Mr.  Gladstone's  eyes  its  chief  danger, 
the  university  has  as  yet  only  the  slenderest  con- 
nection with  the  industrial  life  of  the  nation. 

The  virtues  of  the  Oxford  educational  system, 
like  those  of  the  social  and  athletic  life,  are  pretty 
Nearly  traceable  in  the  main  to  the  division  of  the 
university  into  colleges ;  at  least,  it  is  hard  to  see 
how  anything  other  than  this  could  have  suggested 
the  idea  of  having  one  body  to  teach  the  student 
and  another  to  examine  him.  And  they  have  a 
strong  family  likeness  one  to  another,  the  concrete 
result  being  a  highly  sturdy  and  effective  charac- 
ter. But  the  educational  system  differs  from  the 
social  and  athletic  system  in  that  the  defects  of  its 
qualities  are  the  more  vigorous.  As  far  as  these 
defects  result  from  the  educational  system,  they 
are  chargeable  not  so  much  to  the  preponderance 
of  the  colleges  as  to  the  torpor  of  the  university ; 
and  they  are  powerfully  abetted  by  the  Oxford 
tradition  as  to  the  nature  and  function  of  a  lib- 
eral education.  This  has  not  always  been  the  case 
at  Oxford.  To  understand  the  situation  more 
210 


THE  UNIVERSITY  AND  THE  PEOPLE 

clearly,  it  is  necessary  to  review  in  brief  the  origin 
and  the  growth  of  the  colleges,  and  the  extinction 
of  the  mediaeval  university.  This  will  throw  further 
light  on  Oxford's  social  history.  We  shall  thus  be 
better  able  to  judge  how  and  to  what  extent  the 
college  system  offers  a  solution  for  the  correction 
of  our  American  instruction. 


211 


IV 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  UNIVERSITY  AND 
THE  COLLEGE 


( 


THE  UNIVERSITY  BEFORE  THE  COLLEGE 

IN  the  beginning  was  the  university.  The  col- 
leges were  as  unimportant  as  the  university 
is  now.  If  it  be  admitted  that  the  university 
exists  to-day,  they  were  less  important ;  for  there 
were  no  colleges.  The  origin  of  the  university  was 
probably  due  to  a  migration  of  students  in  1167 
from  the  then  world-famous  University  of  Paris. 
The  first  definite  mention  of  a  studium  generate 
at  Oxford,  or  assembly  of  masters  of  the  different 
faculties,  dates  from  1185,  when  Giraldus  Cam- 
brensis,  as  he  himself  relates,  read  his  new  work, 
"  Topographia  Hibernia,"  before  the  citizens  and 
scholars  of  the  town,  and  entertained  in  his  hostel 
"  all  the  doctors  of  the  different  faculties." 

At  this  time,  and  for  many  centuries  afterward, 
Oxford,  like  other  mediaeval  universities,  was  a 
guild,  and  was  not  unlike  the  trade  guilds  of  the 
time.  Its  object  was  to  train  and  give  titles  to 
those  who  dealt  in  the  arts  and  professions.  The 
master  tanner  was  trained  by  his  guild  to  make 
leather,  and  he  made  it ;  the  master  of  arts  was 
215 


AN  AMERICAN  AT   OXFORD 

trained  by  the  university  to  teach,  and  he  taught. 
He  was  required  to  rent  rooms  in  the  university 
schools,  for  a  year  and  even  two,  and  to  show  that 
he  deserved  his  title  of  master  by  lecturing  in  them, 
and  conducting  "  disputations."  The  masters  lived 
directly  from  the  contributions  of  their  hearers, 
their  means  varying  with  the  popularity  of  their 
lectures ;  and  the  students  were  mainly  poor  clerks, 
who  sought  degrees  for  their  money  value. 

The  lectures  were  mere  dictations  from  manu- 
script, necessitated  by  the  lack  of  accessible  texts. 
The  students  copied  the  lectures  verbatim  for 
future  study.  The  instruction  in  arts  covered  the 
entire  field  of  secular  knowledge,  the  "  seven  arts," 
the  trivium  (grammar,  rhetoric,  and  logic  or  dialec- 
tic), and  the  quadrivium  (music,  arithmetic,  geom- 
etry, and  astronomy).  The  lectures  were  the  main 
and  often  the  only  means  of  imparting  know- 
ledge. The  disputations  were  scholastic  arguments 
—  debates  —  on  some  set  question,  and  were  con- 
ducted by  the  masters.  They  were  the  practical 
application  of  what  the  student  had  learned  from 
the  lectures,  and  were  the  chief  means  of  intel- 
lectual training.  Besides  attending  lectures  and . 
disputing,  the  candidate  for  the  degree  had  to  pass 
an  examination ;  but  the  great  test  of  his  acquire- 
ment seems  to  have  been  the  skill  with  which  he 
216 


UNIVERSITY  AND   COLLEGE 

used  his  knowledge  in  debate.  Thus  the  formal 
disputations  occupied  very  much  the  same  place  as 
the  modern  written  examinations,  and  they  must 
have  required  very  much  the  same  rare  combina- 
tion of  knowledge,  address,  and  pluck.  All  learn- 
ing was  in  a  pint-pot ;  but  it  was  a  very  serviceable 
pint-pot. 

The  university  education  did  not  make  a  man 
above  the  work  of  the  world :  it  made  him  an  en- 
gine of  so  many  horse  power  to  perform  it.  It 
brought  him  benefices  in  that  great  sphere  of  ac- 
tivity, the  mediaeval  Church,  and  important  posts 
in  that  other  sphere  of  mediaeval  statecraft,  which 
was  so  often  identified  with  the  Church.  If  the 
clerk  was  above  the  carpenter,  it  was  not  because 
he  came  from  a  different  station  in  life,  for  he 
often  did  not :  it  was  because  his  work  was  more 
important.  And  he  was  far  above  the  carpenter. 
It  was  a  strenuous,  glorious  life,  and  the  man  of 
intelligence  and  training  found  his  level,  which 
is  the  highest.  The  kings  and  the  nobility  were 
warriors,  and  may  have  affected  to  despise  educa- 
tion ;  but  they  were  far  from  despising  educated 
men.  The  machinery  of  state  was  organized  and 
controlled  by  clerks  from  the  university.  If  the 
scientific  and  mechanical  professions  had  existed 
then,  there  is  no  doubt  that  they  would  not  have 
217 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

been  despised  as  to-day,  but  would  have  had  full 
recognition. 

Socially,  the  university  was  chaos.  In  the  ab- 
sence of  colleges,  all  the  students  lived  with  the 
townsmen  in  "  chamberdekyns,"  which  appear  to 
be  etymologically  and  historically  the  forbears  of 
the  "  diggings  "  to  which  the  fourth  year  man  now 
retreats  when  he  has  been  routed  from  college  by 
incoming  freshmen  and  by  the  necessity  of  reading 
for  his  final  examination.  But  such  discipline 
as  is  now  exerted  over  out-of -college  students  was 
undreamed  of.  In  his  interesting  and  profoundly 
scholarly  history  of  the  universities  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  the  Rev.  Hastings  Rashdall  gives  a  vivid 
picture  of  mediaeval  student  life,  which  was  pretty 
much  the  same  in  all  the  universities  of  Europe. 
Boys  went  up  to  the  university  at  as  early  an  age 
as  thirteen,  and  the  average  freshman  could  not 
have  been  older  than  fifteen ;  yet  they  were  allowed 
almost  absolute  liberty.  Drunkenness  was  rarely 
treated  as  a  university  offense  ;  and  for  introduc- 
ing suspicious  women  into  his  rooms,  it  was  only 
on  being  repeatedly  caught  that  an  undergraduate 
was  disciplined.  At  the  University  of  Ingolstadt, 
a  student  who  had  killed  another  in  a  drunken 
quarrel  had  his  scholastic  effects  and  garments 
confiscated  by  the  university.  He  may  have  been 
218 


UNIVERSITY  AND  COLLEGE 

warned  to  be  good  in  future,  but  he  was  not 
expelled.  "It  is  satisfactory  to  add,"  Rashdall 
continues,  "  that  at  Prague,  a  Master  of  Arts,  be- 
lieved to  have  assisted  in  cutting  the  throat  of  a 
Friar  Bishop,  was  actually  expelled."  The  body 
of  undergraduates  was  "  an  undisciplined  student- 
horde."  Hende  Nicholas,  in  Chaucer's  "  Miller's 
Tale,"  is,  it  must  be  admitted,  a  lively  and  ad- 
venturing youth ;  but  he  might  have  been  much 
livelier  without  being  untrue  to  student  life  in 
chamberdekyns. 

The  townspeople  seem  to  have  been  the  not 
unnatural  fathers  of  the  tradesmen  and  landlords 
of  modern  Oxford  ;  and  the  likeness  is  well  borne 
out  in  the  matter  of  charges.  But  where  to-day 
a  man  sometimes  tries  amiably  to  beat  down  the 
landlord's  prices,  the  way  of  the  Middle  Ages  was 
to  beat  down  the  landlord.  As  the  student  was  in 
many  cases  of  the  same  station  in  life  as  the  towns- 
man, he  naturally  failed  to  command  the  servility 
with  which  the  modern  undergraduate  is  regarded. 
Both  sides  used  to  gird  on  their  armor,  and  meet 
in  battles  that  began  in  bloodshed  and  often  ended 
in  death.  Pages  of  Eashdall's  history  are  filled 
with  accounts  of  savage  encounters  between  town 
and  gown,  which  are  of  importance  historically  as 
showing  the  steps  by  which  the  university  achieved 
219 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

the  anomalous  legal  dominance  over  the  city  which 
it  still  in  some  measure  retains.  For  our  present 
purpose,  it  is  enough  to  note  that  mediaeval  Oxford 
was  unruly,  very.  "  Fighting,"  says  Rashdall, 
"  was  perpetually  going  on  in  the  streets  of  Oxford. 
.  .  .  There  is  probably  not  a  single  yard  of  ground 
in  any  part  of  the  classic  High  Street  that  lies 
between  St.  Martin's  and  St.  Mary's  [almost  a 
quarter  of  a  mile]  which  has  not  at  one  time  or 
other  been  stained  with  human  blood.  There  are 
historic  battlefields  on  which  less  has  been  spilt." 

As  if  this  were  not  enough,  there  were  civil  feuds. 
In  the  Middle  Ages,  sectional  differences  were 
more  obvious  and  more  important  than  now ;  and 
the  first  subdivision  of  the  universities,  both  in 
England  and  on  the  Continent,  was  by  "  nations." 
At  Oxford  there  were  two  nations ;  and  if,  when 
the  north  countryman  rubbed  elbows  with  the 
south  countryman,  he  was  offended  by  his  silken 
gown  and  soft  vowels,  he  rapped  him  across  the 
pate.  Hence  more  strife  and  bloodshed.  Amid 
all  this  disorder  there  was  a  full  measure  of  medi- 
aeval want  and  misery.  At  best,  the  student  of 
moderate  means  led  a  precarious  life ;  and  poor 
students,  shivering,  homeless,  and  starved,  lived  by 
the  still  reputable  art  of  the  beggar.  Something 
had  to  be  done. 

220 


II 

THE  MEDIEVAL  HALL 

THE  mediaeval  spirit  of  organization,  which 
resulted  in  so  many  noble  and  deathless  in- 
stitutions, was  not  slow  in  exerting  itself  against 
the  social  chaos  of  the  university.  Out  of  chaos 
grew  the  halls,  and  out  of  the  halls  the  colleges. 
The  first  permanent  organizations  of  student  life 
were  small,  and  had  their  origin  in  the  immediate 
wants  of  the  individual.  To  gain  the  economy  of 
cooperation  and  the  safety  of  numbers,  the  students 
at  Oxford,  as  at  Paris  and  elsewhere,  began  to  live 
in  separate  small  colonies  under  one  roof.  These 
were  called  aulse  or  halls.  They  were  no  less  in- 
teresting in  themselves  than  for  the  fact  that  they 
were  the  germ  out  of  which  the  Oxford  college 
system  grew. 

At  first  the  halls  appear  to  have  been  mere 
chance  associations.  Each  had  a  principal  who 
managed  its  affairs ;  but  the  principal  had  no  offi- 
cial status,  and  might  even  be  an  undergraduate. 
The  halls  correspond  roughly  to  the  fraternities 
of  American  college  life.  Their  internal  rule 
was  absolutely  democratic.  The  students  lived  to- 
221 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

gether  by  mutual  consent  under  laws  of  their  own 
framing,  and  under  a  principal  of  their  own  elect- 
ing. They  were  quite  without  fear  or  favor  of  the 
university.  The  principal's  duties  were  to  lease 
the  hall,  to  be  a  sort  of  over-steward  of  it,  and 
to  lead  in  enforcing  the  self-imposed  rules  of  the 
community.  His  term  of  office,  like  his  election, 
depended  on  the  good-will  of  his  fellows  ;  if  he 
made  himself  disliked,  they  were  quite  at  liberty 
to  take  up  residence  elsewhere.  In  the  thirteenth 
century  there  was  really  no  such  thing  as  uni- 
versity discipline.  The  men  who  lived  in  the  halls 
came  and  went  as  they  pleased,  and  were  as  free 
as  their  contemporary  in  chamberdekyns  to  loiter, 
quarrel,  and  carouse.  Chaucer's  "  Reeve's  Tale  " 
gives  us  a  glimpse  into  "  Soler  Halle  at  Cante- 
bregge,"  from  which  it  would  appear  that  the 
members  were  quite  as  loose  and  free  as  Hende 
Nicholas,  their  Oxford  contemporary.  But  the 
liberty  was  an  organized  liberty.  In  contrast  with 
the  chaos  of  the  life  of  the  students  in  chamber- 
dekyns, the  early  halls  must  have  been  brave  places 
to  work  and  to  play  in,  and  one  might  wish  that  a 
fuller  record  had  been  left  of  the  life  in  them.  It 
was  their  fate  to  be  obsoured  by  the  greater  splen- 
dor and  permanence  of  the  colleges  to  which  they 
paved  the  way. 

222 


Ill 

THE  COLLEGE  SYSTEM 

THE  English  college,  roughly  speaking,  is  a 
mediaeval  hall  supported  by  a  permanent 
fund  which  the  socii  or  fellows  administer.  The 
first  fund  for  the  support  of  scholars  was  be- 
queathed in  1243,  but  it  can  scarcely  be  regarded 
as  marking  the  first  college,  for  it  provided  for  two 
scholars  only,  and  these  lived  where  they  pleased. 
In  1249  William  of  Durham  bequeathed  a  fund 
for  the  support  of  ten  or  more  masters  of  arts.  At 
first  these  also  lived  apart ;  it  was  only  in  1280, 
after  the  type  of  the  English  college  had  been 
fixed,  that  they  were  formed  into  the  body  now 
known  as  University  College.  The  first  organized 
community  at  Oxford  was  founded  by  Sir  John 
de  Balliol  some  little  time  before  1266 ;  but  the 
allowances  to  the  scholars,  as  was  the  case  in  col- 
leges of  the  University  of  Paris,  after  which  it  was 
doubtless  modeled,  were  not  from  a  permanent 
fund,  being  paid  annually  by  the  founder.  Balliol 
cannot  therefore  be  regarded  as  the  first  character- 
istic English  college.  It  was  not  until  1282  that 
223 


AN   AMERICAN  AT   OXFORD 

Sir  John's  widow,  Dervorguilla,  adopted  the  new 
English  idea  by  making  the  endowment  of  the 
"  House  of  Balliol "  permanent,  and  placing  it 
under  the  management  of  the  fellows. 

The  real  founder  of  the  English  college  was 
Walter  de  Merton.  In  1264  Walter  provided  by- 
endowment  for  the  permanent  maintenance  of 
twenty  scholars,  who  were  to  live  together  in  a  hall 
as  a  community ;  and  in  1274  he  drew  up  the 
statutes  which  fix  the  type  of  the  earliest  English 
college.  The  principal  of  Merton  was  not,  like  the 
principal  of  a  mediaeval  hall,  the  temporary  head  of 
a  chance  community,  but  a  permanent  head  with 
established,  power;  and  he  had  to  manage,  not 
the  periodic  contributions  of  free  associates,  but  a 
landed  estate  held  in  permanent  trust.  He  was 
called  "  warden,"  a  title  which  the  head  of  Merton 
retains  to  this  day.  This  idea  of  a  body  supported 
in  a  permanent  residence  by  a  permanent  fund  is 
perhaps  of  monastic  origin,  and  was  accompanied 
by  certain  features  of  brotherhood  rule.  The 
scholars  lived  a  life  of  order  and  seclusion  which 
was  in  striking  contrast  to  the  life  of  the  students 
in  chamberdekyns,  and  even  of  those  in  the  halls. 
But  with  the  monastic  order  they  had  also  the  mo- 
nastic democracy,  so  that  in  one  way  the  govern- 
ment of  the  college  was  strikingly  similar  to  that 
224 


THE  COLLEGE  SYSTEM 

of  the  halls.  Vacancies  in  the  community  were 
filled  by  cobptation,  and  the  warden  was  elected 
by  the  thirteen  senior  fellows  from  their  own  num- 
ber. Though  partly  monastic  in  constitution,  the 
Hall  of  Merton  was  not  properly  a  religious  body. 
The  fellows  took  no  vows,  and  seem  rather  to  have 
been  expected  to  enter  lay  callings.  This  College 
of  Merton  was  the  result  of  a  gradual  development 
of  the  hall  along  monastic  lines  —  a  lay  brother- 
hood of  students.  It  was  destined  to  work  a  revo- 
lution in  English  university  life  and  in  English 
university  teaching.  The  constitutions  of  Uni- 
versity and  Balliol  were,  as  I  have  indicated, 
remodeled  on  the  lines  of  Merton ;  and  other  col- 
leges were  founded  as  follows :  Exeter,  1314 ; 
Oriel,  1324  ;  Queens,  1341 ;  and  Canterbury,  now 
extinct,  1362,  most  of  which  were  profoundly  influ- 
enced by  the  constitution  of  Merton. 

It  was  at  first  no  part  of  the  duty  of  the 
elders  (socii,  or,  as  Chaucer  calls  them,  felawes) 
to  teach  the  younger.  The  scholars  of  the  college 
received  the  regular  mediaeval  education  in  the 
university.  But  even  in  Merton  the  germ  of  tu- 
torial instruction  was  present.  Twelve  "  parvuli " 
who  were  not  old  enough,  or  sufficiently  used  to 
the  Latin  tongue,  to  profit  by  the  lectures  and  dis- 
putations of  the  university,  lived  in  or  near  the 
225 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

colleges  and  were  taught  by  a  grammar  master; 
and  it  appears  that  even  the  older  scholars  might, 
"  without  blushing,"  consult  this  grammar  master 
on  matters  that  "  pertained  to  his  faculty."  In  his 
relation  to  these  older  students  the  grammar  mas- 
ter may  be  regarded  as  the  precursor  of  the  system 
of  tutorial  instruction. 

The  first  college  to  develop  regular  undergrad- 
uate instruction  within  its  walls  was  "  S.  Marie 
College  of  Winchester  in  Oxford,"  founded  in 
1379,  by  William  of  Wykeham.  "  S.  Marie's " 
brought  in  so  many  innovations  that  it  came  to  be 
called  "  New  College,"  a  title  which,  incongruously 
enough,  it  has  retained  for  more  than  five  hundred 
years.  Wykeham's  first  innovation  was  to  place 
the  grammar  master,  for  the  greater  good  of  his 
pupils,  at  the  head  of  a  "  college  "  of  seventy  boys 
at  Winchester,  thus  outlining  the  English  system 
of  public  schools.  New  College  was  accordingly 
able  to  exclude  all  who  had  not  attained  the  ripe 
age  of  fifteen.  The  effect  of  this  innovation  on 
the  college  was  peculiar.  When  the  boys  came  up 
from  Winchester,  they  appear  to  have  been  farther 
advanced  than  most  of  the  undergraduates  attend- 
ing lectures  and  disputes  m  the  university  schools ; 
in  any  case,  Wykeham  arranged  that  the  older  fel- 
lows should  supplement  the  university  teaching  by 
226 


THE   COLLEGE  SYSTEM 

private  tuition  within  the  college.  Little  by  little 
the  New  College  type  succeeded  that  of  Merton. 
Magdalen  College,  founded  in  1448,  carried  the 
tutorial  system  to  its  logical  end  by  endowing  lec- 
tureships in  theology,  metaphysics,  and  natural 
philosophy.  The  older  colleges  —  those  of  the 
Merton  type  —  little  by  little  followed  this  new 
example,  so  that  by  the  end  of  the  Middle  Ages  it 
was  possible  for  a  student  to  receive  his  entire  in- 
struction within  the  walls  of  his  college.  In  Wol- 
sey's  splendid  foundation,  Cardinal  College  (1522), 
now  styled  Christ  Church,  there  was  a  still  more 
ample  endowment  for  professorships.  At  first  the 
college  instruction  was  regarded  as  supplementary 
to  the  university  teaching,  though  it  soon  became 
far  more  important.  The  masters  of  the  university 
continued  to  read  lectures  on  the  recognized  sub- 
jects, living  as  of  old  on  fees  from  those  who  chose 
to  listen  ;  but  they  were  clearly  unable  to  compete 
with  the  endowed  tutors  and  professors  of  the  col- 
leges. By  the  beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
the  mediaeval  teaching  master  was  disappearing. 
The  only  real  teaching  in  arts  —  by  all  odds  the 
^most  popular  branch  of  study  at  Oxford  —  was 
given  within  the  colleges  and  halls. 

The  discipline  of  the  earlier  colleges  was  much 
severer  than  that  of  to-day,  but  the  difference  is 
227 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

one  of  degree  rather  than  of  kind.  The  lectures 
in  schools  began  at  six,  instead  of  nine;  and  at 
any  hour  it  was  forbidden  to  leave  the  college  ex- 
cept on  a  studious  errand.  When  attending  out- 
of-college  lectures,  all  scholars  were  required  to  go 
and  come  in  a  body  ;  and  in  one  set  of  statutes  even 
a  chaplain  was  forbidden  to  leave  the  gates,  except 
to  go  to  lectures  or  to  the  library,  without  taking 
at  least  one  companion,  who,  in  the  antique  phrase 
of  the  statute,  was  to  be  a  "  witness  of  his  honest 
conversation."  There  were  only  two  meals  a  day, 
dinner  at  ten  and  supper  at  five.  Breakfast,  now 
the  great  rallying-point  of  Oxford  hospitality,  was 
the  invention  of  a  more  luxurious  age.  Of  ath- 
letics there  was  none,  or  next  to  none.  The  only 
licensed  hilarities  were  certain  so-called  "honest 
jokes,"  with  which  the  tutors  were  in  at  least 
one  case  required  to  regale  their  pupils  after  din- 
ner, and  a  u  potation  "  which  was  permitted  after 
supper,  perhaps  as  an  offset  to  the  "  honest  jokes." 
The  severity  of  these  regulations  is  mainly  ex- 
plainable in  the  fact  that  the  inmates  of  the  col- 
leges were  fed,  clothed,  and  housed  out  of  the  en- 
dowment, and  might  thus  be  reasonably  expected 
to  give  a  good  account  of  themselves.  Further- 
more, they  were  most  of  them  mere  boys.  A  stat- 
ute dating  as  late  as  1527  requires  that  "  scholars  " 
228 


THE   COLLEGE  SYSTEM 

shall  be  at  least  twelve  years  old.  At  fourteen  or 
fifteen  a  scholar  might  become  a  fellow.  The  aver- 
age age  of  "  determining  "  as  bachelor  of  arts  was 
little  if  at  all  over  seventeen.  At  nineteen,  the 
age  at  which  the  modern  Oxonian  comes  up  from 
the  public  schools,  the  mediaeval  student  might,  if 
he  were  clever,  be  a  master  of  arts,  lecturing  and 
disputing  in  schools  for  the  benefit  of  the  bach- 
elors and  scholars  of  the  university. 

The  modern  Oxonian  delights  to  tell  visiting 
friends  that  he  is  forbidden  by  statute  to  play 
marbles  on  the  steps  of  the  Bodleian,  and  to  roll 
hoop  in  the  High  ;  but  if  a  mediaeval  master  of 
arts  were  to  "  come  up "  to-day,  he  would  be 
amused,  not  that  so  many  rules  framed  for  his 
boyish  pupils  of  old  should  be  applied  to  grown 
men,  but  that  the  men  so  obviously  require  a  check 
to  juvenile  exuberance.  Yet  this  much  has  been 
gained,  that  the  outgrown  restrictions  of  college 
life  have  kept  Oxford  wholesomely  young.  The 
survivals  of  the  monastic  system  meanwhile  have 
kept  it  wholesomely  democratic. 

After  the  colleges  reached  their  full  develop- 
ment, the  extinction  of  the  mediaeval  university  as 
an  institution  for  teaching  was  largely  a  matter  of 
form.  The  quietus  was  given  in  1569.  The  Earl 
of  Leicester,  then  chancellor,  ordered  that  the 
229 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

government  should  be  in  the  hands  of  the  chan- 
cellor, doctors,  proctors,  and  the  heads  of  the  col- 
leges and  halls.  In  1636  (the  year  of  the  found- 
ing of  the  first  American  college)  the  statutes  of 
the  university  were  revised  and  codified  by  Arch- 
bishop Laud  ;  the  sole  authority  was  placed  in  the 
hands  of  an  oligarchy  composed  of  the  leading 
dons  of  the  colleges.  The  government  was  lim- 
ited to  the  vice-chancellor,  the  proctors,  and  the 
heads  of  houses,  and  the  vice-chancellor  and  the 
proctors  were  elected  in  sequence  by  each  of  the 
colleges  from  its  own  members.  The  teaching  of 
the  university  was  now  legally  as  well  as  actually 
in  the  hands  of  the  college  tutors,  and  the  exam- 
ination was  in  the  hands  of  a  board  chosen  by  the 
colleges.  University  lectures  were  still  delivered 
in  the  schools  by  the  regent  masters,  but  they  had 
ceased  to  play  any  important  part  in  Oxford  edu- 
cation. 


230 


IV 

THE  GOLDEN  AGE  OF  THE  MEDIAEVAL  HALL 

LIKE  the  colleges,  the  halls  meanwhile  tended 
gradually  towards  an  organized  community 
life.  The  starting-point  was  a  regulation  that  the 
principal  should  give  the  university  security  for 
the  rent  of  the  house.  The  logical  result  of  this 
was  that  the  principal  became  the  representative 
of  the  university,  and  the  hall  one  of  its  recog- 
nized institutions.  The  advantage  of  living  in 
separate  communities  meantime  had  become  so 
clearly  evident  that  by  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth 
century  chamberdekyns  were  abolished.  All  stu- 
dents not  living  in  a  college  were  required  to  live 
in  a  hall.  It  was  thus  that  the  halls  lost  some  of 
their  democratic  independence.  At  this  period  in 
their  development  they  may  be  roughly  compared 
to  such  modern  American  halls  as  Claverly  at 
Harvard,  where  the  residents  govern  their  own 
affairs  in  the  main,  admitting  newcomers  only  by 
vote,  but  are  all  alike  subject  to  the  authority  of 
a  resident  university  proctor.  The  analogy  is  by 
no  means  close,  for  the  principal  of  the  mediaeval 
231 


AN  AMERICAN  AT   OXFORD 

hall  was  not  so  much  a  resident  policeman  as  the 
actual  head  of  the  community. 

As  the  colleges  developed  tutorial  instruction, 
the  halls  followed  suit;  the  local  administrator 
became  responsible  not  only  for  the  social  regime, 
but  for  the  tuition  of  the  undergraduates.  The 
halls  thus  differed  from  the  college  mainly  in  that 
they  had  no  corporate  existence  such  as  is  neces- 
sary to  an  endowed  institution.  The  mediaeval 
hall  was  now  in  its  golden  age ;  it  was  a  well-con- 
ceived instrument  for  all  the  purposes  of  resi- 
dence and  of  education.  It  is  especially  to  be 
noted  that  the  regime  of  the  community  was  still 
in  the  main  democratic.  Though  the  head  was 
appointed  by  the  university,  he  had  to  be  accepted 
by  vote  of  the  undergraduates,  a  provision  that 
was  still  observed,  at  least  in  one  instance,  until 
the  close  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

The  discipline  of  the  halls  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury, severe  though  it  was  by  comparison  with  that 
of  the  earliest  halls,  was  far  less  severe  than  the 
discipline  in  the  colleges.  It  was  quite  as  much 
as  the  university  could  accomplish,  according  to 
Rashdall,  "  to  prevent  students  expelled  from  one 
hall  being  welcomed  at  another,  to  prevent  the 
masters  themselves  condoning  or  sharing  the  worst 
excesses  of  their  pupils,  to  compel  fairly  regular 
232 


MEDIEVAL   HALL 

attendance  at  lectures  and  other  university  or  col- 
lege exercises,  to  require  all  students  to  return 
home  by  curfew  at  8  or  9  p.  M.,  to  get  the  outer 
doors  of  the  pedagogy  locked  till  morning,  and  to 
insist  on  the  presence  of  a  regent  throughout  the 
night."  When  the  early  habits  of  the  community 
generally  are  remembered,  it  will  be  evident  that 
these  regulations  still  allowed  a  vast  deal  of  liberty, 
or  rather  of  license.  Boys  of  fifteen  or  sixteen 
living  in  the  very  centre  of  large  and  densely 
populated  towns  were  in  general  perfectly  free  to 
roam  about  the  streets  up  to  the  hour  at  which 
all  respectable  citizens  were  accustomed,  if  not 
actually  compelled  by  town  statutes,  to  retire  to 
bed. 

The  halls  were  reduced  in  number  by  the  wars 
of  the  Roses  and  by  a  period  of  intellectual  stag- 
nation that  followed,  but  they  still  numbered 
seventy-one,  as  against  eighteen  colleges  (includ- 
ing those  maintained  by  monasteries,  which  disap- 
peared with  the  Reformation)  ;  and  the  number  of 
their  students  is  estimated  at  seven  hundred,  as 
against  three  hundred  in  the  colleges.  In  the  light 
of  subsequent  development  it  seems  probable  that 
it  would  have  been  far  better  for  the  university  if 
the  halls  had  remained  the  characteristic  subdivi- 
sion. Their  fate  was  decided  not  by  any  inherent 
233 


AN   AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

superiority  on  the  part  of  the  colleges,  but  by  the 
force  of  corporate  wealth. 

Even  in  the  fifteenth  century,  the  halls  were 
tending  to  pass  into  the  possession  of  the  colleges, 
and  later  events  made  the  tendency  a  fact.  "  As 
stars  lose  their  light  when  the  sun  ariseth,"  says 
an  ancient  Cambridge  worthy,  "  so  all  these  hostels 
decayed  by  degrees  when  endowed  colleges  began 
to  appear."  The  Reformation,  and  a  recurrent 
pestilence,  "  the  sweating  sickness,"  a  kind  of 
inflammatory  rheumatism  due  apparently  to  the 
unwholesome  situation  of  the  university,  resulted 
in  a  sharp  falling  off  in  the  number  of  students. 
The  colleges  lived  on,  however  thinned  their  ranks, 
by  virtue  of  the  endowments ;  but  the  halls  dis- 
appeared with  the  students  who  had  frequented 
them.  In  1526  it  was  recorded  that  sixteen  had 
lately  been  abandoned.  When  the  numbers  of  the 
university  swelled  again  under  Elizabeth,  the  in- 
crease found  place  partly  in  the  few  halls  that 
were  left,  but  mainly  in  the  colleges.  In  1602 
there  were  only  eight  halls,  and  these  were  all 
mere  dependencies  of  separate  colleges.  "  Singulce 
singulis  a  colegiis  pendent"  as  a  contemporary 
expresses  it.  Only  one  of  these,  St.  Edmund  Hall, 
now  retains  even  a  show  of  the  old  democratic 
independence,  and  this  has  lately  been  brought 
234 


MEDLEVAL  HALL 

into  closer  subjection  to  Queen's  College.  Socially 
as  well  as  educationally,  the  mediaeval  university- 
faded  before  the  organization  and  endowment  of 
the  colleges.  The  life  of  Oxford  was  concentrated 
in  a  dozen  or  more  separate  institutions,  and  so 
thoroughly  concentrated  that  there  was  little  asso- 
ciation, intellectual  or  social,  between  any  two  of 
them. 


235 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  THE  MODERN  UNDER- 
GRADUATE 

IF  the  tutors  of  New  College  were  epoch-mak- 
ing, the  amplitude  and  splendor  of  its  social 
life  were  no  less  so.  Its  original  buildings  are  in 
such  perfect  preservation  that  it  is  hard  to  believe 
that  they  are  almost  the  oldest  in  Oxford,  and 
that  the  New  College  quadrangle  is  the  father  of 
all  quads.  The  establishment  of  the  "  head  M  was 
of  similar  dignity.  The  master  of  Balliol  received 
forty  shillings  yearly ;  the  warden  of  New  College, 
forty  pounds.  In  the  statutes  of  an  old  Cam- 
bridge college  we  find  it  required  that  since  it 
would  be  "  indecent "  for  the  master  to  go  afoot, 
and  "  scandalous"  to  the  college  for  him  to  "con- 
ducere  hackeneye,"  he  might  be  allowed  one  horse. 
The  warden  of  New  College  had  a  coach  and  six. 
As  century  followed  century  the  value  of  the  en- 
dowments increased,  and  the  scale  of  living  was 
proportionately  raised.  The  colleges  in  general 
became  the  home  of  comfort,  and  sometimes  of  a 
very  positive  luxury. 

236 


THE  MODERN  UNDERGRADUATE 

In  the  colleges  of  the  Middle  Ages  the  students 
were  the  socii,  and  were  maintained  by  the  endow- 
ment. These  are  the  dons  and  foundationers,  or 
scholarship  men,  of  to-day.  But  the  comfort  and 
order  of  the  life  in  the  colleges  were  very  attrac- 
tive, and  the  sons  of  the  rich  were  early  welcomed 
as  "gentlemen  commoners,"  precursors  of  the  mod- 
ern "  commoners."  The  statutes  of  Magdalen  make 
the  first  clear  provision  for  receiving  and  teach- 
ing such  "  non-foundation  "  students.  They  permit 
the  admission  of  twenty  filii  nobilium  as  commen- 
sales,  or  commoners,  in  the  vernacular.  At  first 
these  were  few  and  unimportant ;  in  the  centuries 
during  which  the  numbers  of  the  university  were 
at  an  ebb,  they  could  easily  be  accommodated 
within  the  depleted  colleges.  When  the  univer- 
sity increased  under  Elizabeth,  the  idea  of  living 
in  halls  in  the  mediaeval  fashion,  as  we  have  seen, 
was  obsolescent,  so  that  the  result  of  the  increase 
was  to  enlarge  the  colleges.  Thus,  largely  as  a 
matter  of  chance,  the  commoners  of  to-day,  the  char- 
acteristic and  by  far  the  larger  part  of  the  under- 
graduate body,  live  under  a  regime  invented  for 
the  endowed  scholars  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  the 
democratic  license  of  the  mediaeval  undergraduate 
at  large  has  given  way  to  a  democratic  rule  of 
commoners  in  colleges.  Though  the  commoner  is 
237 


AN  AMERICAN   AT  OXFORD 

no  longer  called  a  gentleman  commoner,  he  is  more 
than  likely  to  come  from  a  family  of  position  and 
means,  for  the  comfort  of  life  in  the  colleges  is 
expensive.  All  this  has  transformed  Oxford  from 
a  mediaeval  guild  of  masters  and  apprenticed  stu- 
dents, a  free  mart  of  available  knowledge,  into  a 
closely  organized  anteroom  to  social  and  profes- 
sional life. 


238 


VI 

THE  INSIGNIFICANCE  OF  THE  MODERN 
UNIVERSITY 

THOUGH  the  university  as  a  teaching  body 
pined  before  the  rising  colleges,  and  for 
centuries  lay  in  a  swoon,  it  was  not  dead.  It  was 
kept  alive  by  certain  endowments  for  lecturers. 
But  so  thoroughly  did  the  college  tutors  supply  all 
undergraduate  needs  that,  unless  walls  indeed  have 
ears,  the  lectures  were  never  heard.  The  profes- 
sors gradually  abandoned  the  university  schools 
and  gave  the  unattended  lectures  in  their  own 
houses.  Such  lectures  were  known  as  "  study  lec- 
tures." Even  these  gave  way  to  silence.  An  odd 
situation  was  caused  by  the  fact  that  there  were 
also  salaries  paid  to  university  proctors,  a  part 
of  whose  duty  it  was  to  see  that  the  professorial 
lectures  were  properly  given.  When  a  proctor  ap- 
peared, the  learned  professor  would  snatch  up  his 
manuscript  and  read  until  his  auditor  got  tired 
and  left.  This  was  one  case  in  which  a  thief  was 
not  the  person  to  catch  a  thief ;  such  energy  on 
the  part  of  the  proctor  was  unusual,  and  was  re- 
239 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

garded  as  in  extremely  bad  form.  The  abuse  pro- 
ceeded so  far  that  in  some  cases,  when  hearers 
appeared  at  the  appointed  hour,  the  professors 
refused  point  blank  to  read  their  lectures.  The 
climax  of  the  farce  was  that  at  graduation  students 
were  fined  for  having  cut  these  lectures  that  had 
never  been  given.  When  Samuel  Johnson  was 
fined  for  neglecting  a  college  lecture  to  go  "  slid- 
ing on  Christ  Church  Meadow,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  Sir,  you  have  fined  me  twopence  for  missing  a 
lecture  that  was  not  worth  a  penny !  "  His  un- 
timely departure  from  Oxford  has  lamentably  left 
us  to  conjecture  what  he  would  have  said  upon 
paying  the  university  fines  at  graduation  for  cut- 
ting lectures  that  had  never  been  given. 

Even  the  university  examinations  became  farcical. 
Under  the  Laudian  statutes  the  very  examiners  be- 
came corrupt.  Instead  of  a  feast  of  reason  and  a 
flow  of  soul,  the  wary  student  provided  his  examiner 
with  good  meat  and  wine ;  and  the  two,  with  what 
company  they  bade  in,  got  gloriously  drunk  to- 
gether. B.  A.  meant  Bacchanal  of  Arts.  Even 
when  the  forms  of  examination  were  held  to,  the  farce 
was  only  less  obvious.  A  writer  in  Terrce  Filius, 
March  24,  1721,  tells  us  that  the  examination  con- 
sisted in  "  a  formal  repetition  of  a  set  of  syllogisms 
upon  some  ridiculous  question  in  logick,  which  the 
240 


THE  MODERN   UNIVERSITY 

candidates  get  by  rote,  or  perhaps  read  out  of  their 
caps,  which  lie  before  them."  These  commodious 
sets  of  syllogisms  were  called  strings,  and  descended 
from  undergraduate  to  undergraduate  in  a  regular 
succession  like  themes  and  mechanical  drawings  in 
an  American  club  or  fraternity.  UI  have  in  my 
custody  a  book  of  strings  upon  most  or  all  of  the 
questions  discussed  in  a  certain  college  noted  for 
its  ratiocinative  faculty ;  on  the  first  leaf  of  which 
are  these  words  :  Ex  dono  Richardi  P — — eprimce 
classi  benefactoris  munificentissimi."  Lord  Eldon 
took  his  degree  at  University  College  by  an  ex- 
amination that  consisted  of  two  questions :  "  What 
is  the  meaning  of  Golgotha  ?  "  and  "  Who  founded 
University  College  ?  "  It  was,  no  doubt,  the  bearers 
of  degrees  thus  achieved  who  owned  those  mar- 
velous libraries  of  the  eighteenth  century,  which 
consisted  of  pasteboard  boxes  exquisitely  backed  in 
tooled  calf,  and  labeled  with  the  names  of  the 
standard  Greek  and  Latin  classics. 

The  decline  of  the  university  teaching  and  ex- 
amination did  not  result  in  a  corresponding  rise  in 
the  colleges.  Each  of  the  dozen  and  more  institu- 
tions was  supposed,  as  I  have  said,  to  keep  a  sepa- 
rate faculty  in  arts,  and  often  in  law  and  theology 
as  well.  If  there  had  been  any  incentive  to  ambi- 
tion, the  colleges  might  have  vied  with  one  another 
241 


AN   AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

in  their  impossible  task,  or  at  least  have  gone  far 
enough  to  bring  about  a  reform.  But  they  were 
rich  and  did  not  care.  The  wealth  of  collegiate 
endowments,  that  had  begun  by  ruining  the  uni- 
versity, ended  by  ruining  the  colleges.  There  were 
still  earnest  teachers  and  students  at  Oxford,  but 
they  were  not  the  rule.  The  chief  energies  of  the 
tutors  were  spent  in  increasing  their  salaries  by  a 
careful  management  of  the  estates,  and  in  evading 
their  pupils.  In  "  the  splendid  foppery  of  a  well- 
turned  period  "  Gibbon  thus  pictures  the  dons  of 
Magdalen  in  1752 :  "  Their  deep  and  dull  potations 
excused  the  brisk  intemperance  of  youth."  Only 
one  result  was  possible.  In  1821  T.  J.  Hogg, 
Shelley's  college-mate  at  University  College,  re- 
ferred to  Oxford  as  a  seat  of  learning.  "  Why  do 
you  call  it  so  ?  "  Shelley  cried  indignantly.  "  Be- 
cause," Hogg  replied,  "it  is  a  place  in  which 
learning  sits  very  comfortably,  well  thrown  back 
as  in  an  easy  chair,  and  sleeps  so  soundly  that 
neither  you  nor  I  nor  anybody  else  can  wake  her." 
Permanent  endowments  had  transferred  the  seat 
of  learning  from  a  nobly  indigent  university  to 
the  colleges,  and  the  deep  and  dull  potations  of 
endowed  tutors  had  put  it  asleep  on  the  common- 
room  chairs. 

The  nineteenth  century  did  not  altogether  arouse 
242 


THE  MODERN  UNIVERSITY 

it.  "  The  studies  of  the  university,"  according  to 
the  testimony  of  the  Oxford  Commission  of  1850, 
"  were  first  raised  from  their  abject  state  by  a 
statute  passed  in  1800."  Heretofore  all  students 
had  pursued  the  same  studies,  and  there  was  no  dis- 
tinction to  be  gained  at  graduation  except  the  mere 
fact  of  becoming  a  Bachelor  of  Arts.  The  statute 
of  1800  provided  that  such  students  as  chose  might 
distinguish  themselves  from  the  rest  by  taking 
honors ;  and  for  both  passman  and  honor  man  it 
provided  a  dignified  and  quite  undebauchable  uni- 
versity examining  board.  At  first  the  subjects 
studied  were,  roughly  speaking,  the  same  for  pass- 
man and  honor  man ;  the  difference  was  made  by 
raising  the  standard  of  the  honor  examination. 
The  examination  followed  the  mediaeval  custom  in 
being  mainly  oral ;  and  though  it  soon  came  to  be 
written,  it  still  preserves  the  tradition  of  the  medi- 
aeval disputation  by  including  a  viva  voce  which  is 
open  to  the  attendance  of  the  public.  Throughout 
the  nineteenth  century  the  development  consisted 
mainly  in  adding  a  few  minor  schools. 

The  good  and  bad  features  of  the  English  col-  ! 
lege  system  as  a  whole  should  not  be  hard  to  dis- 
tinguish. In  all  social  aspects  the  colleges  are  as 
nearly  perfect  as  human  institutions  are  capable  of 
becoming,  and  they  are  the  foundation  of  an  un- 
243 


L< 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

equaled  athletic  life.  Educationally,  their  qualities 
are  mixed.  For  the  purpose  of  common  or  garden 
English  gentlemen,  nothing  could  be  better  than  a 
happy  combination  of  tutorial  instruction  and  uni- 
versity examining.  For  the  purposes  of  scholarly 
instruction  in  general,  and  of  instruction  in  the 
modern  sciences  and  mechanic  arts  in  particular, 
few  things  could  be  worse  than  the  system  as  at 
present  construed. 

To  exult  over  the  superiority  of  American  insti- 
tutions in  so  many  of  the  things  that  make  up  a 
modern  university  would  not  be  a  very  profitable 
proceeding.  Let  us  neglect  the  imperfections  of 
Oxford.  It  is  of  much  greater  profit  to  consider 
the  extraordinary  social  advantages  that  arise  from 
the  division  of  the  university  into  colleges,  and  the 
educational  advantages  of  the  honor  schools.  These 
are  points  with  regard  to  which  we  are  as  poor  as 
Oxford  is  poor  in  the  scope  of  university  instruction. 

The  point  will  perhaps  be  clearer  for  a  brief 
review  of  the  manner  in  which  our  college  system 
grew  out  of  the  English.  The  development  is  the 
reverse  of  what  we  have  just  been  considering.  In 
England,  the  colleges  overshadowed  the  university 
and  sapped  its  life.  With  us,  the  university  has 
overshadowed  the  college  and  is  bidding  fair  to 
annihilate  it. 

244 


VII 

THE  COLLEGE  IN  AMEEICA 

IN  1636  the  Commonwealth  of  Massachusetts 
passed  an  act  to  establish  a  "  schoole  or  col- 
ledge,"  and  set  apart  a  tract  of  land  in  "  New 
Towne  "  as  its  seat,  which  they  called  Cambridge. 
Our  Puritan  forefathers  had  carried  from  the 
English  university  the  conviction  that  "  sound 
learning  "  is  the  "  root  of  true  religion,"  and  were 
resolved,  in  their  own  vigorous  phrase,  that  it 
should  not  be  "  buried  in  the  graves  of  the  fathers." 
In  1638  a  master  of  arts  of  Emmanuel  College, 
Cambridge,  John  Harvard,  bequeathed  to  the  new 
institution  his  library  and  half  his  fortune,  some 
£780.  A  timber  building  was  erected  and  a  cor- 
poration formed  which  bore  the  donor's  name. 
From  the  regulations  in  force  in  1655  it  is  evident 
that  in  its  manner  of  life,  its  laws  of  government, 
the  studies  taught,  and  the  manner  of  granting  the 
degree,  Harvard  College  was  a  close  counterpart  of 
the  English  college  of  the  early  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, its  very  phraseology  including  such  terms  as 
"  disputing,"  "  proceeding,"  "determining."  It  was 
245 


AN  AMERICAN   AT   OXFOKD 

the  first  institution  of  higher  education  in  British 
America.  Until  the  founding  of  the  first  state 
university,  the  University  of  Virginia,  in  1819,  the 
constitution  afforded  the  principal  model  for  sub- 
sequent foundations,  and  to-day  colleges  of  the 
Harvard  type  are  perhaps  the  strongest  factor  in 
American  education.  Harvard  thus  transplanted 
to  American  soil  the  full  measure  of  the  traditions 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  many  of  which  exist  in  a  mod- 
ified form  to-day. 

In  "  Harvard  College  by  an  Oxonian "  Dr. 
George  Birkbeck  Hill  suggests  that  John  Harvard 
expected  others  to  found  similar  institutions  which 
collectively  were  to  reproduce  the  University  of 
Cambridge  in  New  England.  The  supposition  is 
by  no  means  impossible,  and  the  manuscript  records 
in  the  Harvard  Library  would  perhaps  reward  re- 
search. But  whatever  the  intention,  it  is  abundantly 
clear  that  in  the  full  English  sense  of  the  word 
no  second  college  was  established  at  Cambridge. 
The  first  constitution  was  in  all  essentials  the  same 
as  that  of  to-day.  Hutchinson's  "  History  of  Mas- 
sachusetts "  records  (1676)  :  "  There  are  but  four 
fellowships,  the  two  seniors  have  each  SOL  per 
ann.  and  the  two  juniors  15/.,  but  no  diet  is  allowed : 
There  are  tutors  to  all  such  as  are  admitted  stu- 
dents. .  .  .  The  government  of  these  colledges  is 
246 


THE   COLLEGE   IN  AMEKICA 

in  the  governor  and  magistrates  of  Massachusetts 
and  the  president  of  the  colledge,  together  with  the 
teaching  elders  of  the  six  adjacent  towns."  The 
fellows  are  the  forbears  of  the  modern  corporation, 
the  tutors  of  the  faculty ;  and  though  the  institu- 
tion has  been  separated  from  the  state,  the  "  teach- 
ing elders  "  are  the  earliest  overseers.  Furthermore, 
the  endowment  of  Harvard  has  remained  undi- 
vided ;  and  generations  elapsed  before  the  present 
very  un-English  division  was  made  by  which  the 
teaching  force  is  separated  into  independent  facul- 
ties for  arts  and  the  various  professions.  From  the 
first  the  "college"  was  a  "university"  in  that  it 
granted  degrees ;  and  less  than  twenty  years  after 
its  founding  the  two  terms  are  used  as  synonymous ; 
an  appendix  to  what  is  called  the  charter  of  Har- 
vard "College"  calls  the  institution  a  "Univer- 
sity." This  confusion  of  terms  still  persists,  and 
is  found  at  most  other  American  institutions,  the 
constitutions  of  which  were  largely  modeled  after 
that  of  Harvard.  For  generations  the  endowments 
and  the  teaching  force  of  the  American  college  and 
university  were  identical.  Thus  as  regards  its  con-  ./ 
stitution  the  typical  American  university  is  a  single 
English  college  writ  large. 

Almost  from  the  outset,  however,  there  were,  in 
one  sense  of  the  word,  several  colleges.     In  "  An 
247 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

Inventory  of  the  whole  Estate  of  Harvd  Colledge 
taken  by  the  President  &  Fellows  as  they  find  the 
same  to  be  Decemb.  10,  1654,"  the  first  two  items 
are  as  follows  :  — 

"  Imprs.  The  building  called  the  old  colledge,  con- 
teyning  a  Hall,  Kitchen,  Buttery,  Cellar,  Turrett 
&  5  Studeys  &  therin  7  chambers  for  students  in 
them.  A  Pantry  &  small  corne  Chamber.  A  li- 
brary &  Books  therin,  vallued  at  400lb. 

"It.  Another  house  called  Goffes  colledge,  & 
was  purchased  of  Edw:  Goffe.  conteyning  five 
chambers.  18  studyes.  a  kitchen  cellar  &  3  gar- 
retts." 1 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  "Old  Colledge,"  which 
was  Harvard's  building,  had  a  kitchen,  buttery, 
and  cellar,  a  pantry  and  a  small  corn  chamber, 
and  was  thus  primitively  modeled  after  an  Eng- 
lish hall  or  college.  Presumably  the  inmates, 
like  their  cousins  across  the  water,  dined  in  the 
hall.  As  for  "  Goffe's  colledge,"  granting  that 
the  punctuation  of  the  inventory  is  intentional,  it 
had  a  kitchen  cellar,  which  would  seem  to  imply 
a  kitchen;  and  it  is  not  impossible  that  there 
should  be  a  comma  after  "  kitchen."  No  hall  is 
mentioned,  and  it  is  hardly  likely  that  there  could 
have  been  so  imposing  a  room  in  what  was  built 

1  William  G.  Brown  in  The  Nation,  vol.  61,  No.  1585,  p.  346. 
248 


THE   COLLEGE   IN   AMERICA 

for  a  private  house ;  but  it  would  have  been  possible 
and  natural  to  serve  meals  in  the  largest  of  the  five 
"chambers."  A  third  building  Hutchinson's  his- 
tory describes  as  "  a  small  brick  building  called  the 
Indian  Colledge,  where  some  few  Indians  did  study, 
but  now  it  is  a  printing  house,"  the  first  printing 
house  in  British  America.  The  two  earliest  build- 
ings at  Harvard  would  thus  be  the  abodes  of  sepa- 
rate communities,  and  though  I  can  find  no  intima- 
tion as  to  the  Indian  College,  it  can  scarcely  be 
doubted  that  since  it  was  established  for  the  sepa- 
rate use  of  the  redskins,  it  contained  a  separate 
living-plant.  A  later  record  shows  that  there  was 
a  separate  kitchen  in  the  first  Stoughton  Hall. 

These  early  "  colledges "  at  Harvard  are  more 
properly  termed  halls,  and  such  as  survived  are 
now  so  called.  They  had  probably  little  in  com- 
mon with  the  democratic  English  halls  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages.  Both  at  Oxford  and  at  Cambridge  the 
halls  of  the  seventeenth  century  were,  as  I  have 
said,  mere  pendants  of  the  colleges;  they  must 
have  had  a  separate  character  as  a  social  commu- 
nity and  a  certain  independence ;  but  if  they  had 
separate  endowments,  they  did  not  manage  them, 
and  each  of  them  depended  for  its  instruction 
mainly  on  the  college  to  which  it  was  affiliated. 
The  printed  records  of  the  early  American  halls  are 
249 


AN  AMEEICAN  AT  OXFORD 

too  meagre  to  warrant  definite  conclusions ;  but 
they  seem  to  show  that  the  halls  were  conceived  in 
the  spirit  of  the  English  hall  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  in  that  they  provided  for  separate  social 
and  residential  communities  without  separate  en- 
dowment or  teaching  force.  If  the  increase  of 
students  at  Harvard  had  been  rapid,  it  is  not  un- 
likely that  many  new  halls  would  have  been  estab- 
lished, each  the  home  of  a  complete  community ; 
but  for  half  a  century  the  number  fluctuated  be- 
tween fifteen  and  thirty.  If  we  take  the  English 
estimate  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  as  the  largest 
feasible  size  for  a  single  community,  the  limit 
was  not  reached  until  as  late  as  1840.  By  1676 
the  timber  "  colledge  "  built  at  the  charge  of  Mr. 
Harvard,  which  bore  his  name,  had  been  super- 
seded by  the  first  Harvard  Hall,  which  Hutchinson 
describes  as  "  a  fair  pile  of  brick  building  covered 
with  tiles  by  reason  of  the  late  Indian  warre  not 
yet  finished.  ...  It  contains  twenty  chambers  for 
students,  two  in  a  chamber,  a  large  hall  which 
serves  for  a  chapel ;  over  that  a  convenient  library." 
In  these  ample  accommodations  it  was  found  that 
the  student  body  could  be  most  conveniently  and 
cheaply  fed  as  a  single  community.  Thus,  like  the 
idea  of  a  group  of  colleges  with  separate  finances 
and  teaching  bodies,  the  idea  of  separate  residential 
250 


THE   COLLEGE   IN   AMERICA 

halls  must  have  passed  away  with  the  generation 
of  divines  educated  in  England.  The  American 
college  and  the  American  university  remained  iden- 
tical, not  only  educationally  and  in  their  finances, 
but  as  a  social  organization.  This  fact  has  caused 
a  curious  reversion  in  America  toward  the  mediae- 
val type  of  university,  both  socially  and  education- 
ally. 

As  the  university  has  expanded,  it  has  declined 
socially :  to-day  the  residential  life  is  only  a  degree 
better  than  that  in  the  ancient  chamberdekyns. 
Educationally,  the  reversion  has  been  fortunate  : 
the  university  is  alive  to  the  needs  of  the  life  about 
it.  If  it  here  resembles  the  modern  German  uni- 
versities, this  is  largely  due  to  the  fact  that  both 
have  more  faithfully  preserved  the  system  and  the 
spirit  of  the  Middle  Ages :  the  resemblance  is 
quite  as  much  a  matter  of  native  growth  in  Amer- 
ica as  of  foreign  imitation.  In  England,  the  me- 
diaeval idea  of  a  multiplicity  of  residential  bodies 
has  survived,  and  the  educational  idea  of  the 
mediaeval  university  has  perished.  In  Germany, 
the  educational  idea  has  survived,  and  the  old  com- 
munity life  has  perished.  In  America,  the  two 
ideas  have  survived  by  virtue  of  their  identity. 
But  for  the  same  reason  both  are  in  a  rudimen- 
tary and  very  imperfect  state  of  development. 
251 


THE   PROBLEMS   OF   THE   AMERICAN   UNI- 
VERSITY 


I 

THE  SOCIAL  AND  ATHLETIC   PROBLEM 

THE  imperfection  of  the  modern  American 
university  in  its  social  organization  has  been 
stated  with  the  utmost  clearness  and  authority,  at 
least  as  regards  Harvard.  The  "  Harvard  Gradu- 
ates' Magazine"  for  September,  1894.  published 
posthumously  an  article  by  Frank  Bolles,  late  sec- 
retary of  the  college,  entitled  "  The  Administrative 
Problem."  "  In  the  present  state  of  affairs,"  says 
Mr.  Bolles,  "  student  social  life  is  stunted  and  dis- 
torted. .  .  .  There  is  something  very  ugly  in  the 
possibility  of  a  young  man's  coming  to  Cambridge, 
and  while  here  sleeping  and  studying  alone  in  a 
cheerless  lodging,  eating  alone  in  a  dismal  restau- 
rant, feeling  himself  unknown,  and  so  alone  in  his 
lectures,  his  chapel,  and  his  recreations,  and  not 
even  having  the  privilege  of  seeing  his  administra- 
tive officers,  who  know  most  of  his  record,  without 
having  to  explain  to  them  at  each  visit  who  he  is 
and  what  he  is,  before  they  can  be  made  to  remem- 
ber that  he  is  a  living,  hoping,  or  despairing  part 
of  Harvard  College." 

255 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

Some  of  these  men  who  fail  to  find  a  place  in 
the  social  community  meet  their  isolation  grimly 
and  are  embittered  against  life.  Others,  after  a 
few  months  or  a  year  of  lonesomeness  and  neglect, 
give  up  their  university  career  broken-hearted,  and 
by  so  doing  perhaps  take  the  first  step  in  a  life  of 
failures.  One  man  of  whom  I  happened  to  know 
confided  to  his  daily  themes  a  depth  of  misery  of 
which  it  can  only  be  hoped  that  it  was  hysterical. 
At  night  when  he  heard  a  step  on  his  staircase  he 
prayed  that  it  might  be  some  one  coming  to  see 
him.  The  tide  of  undergraduate  life  and  of  joy 
in  living  flowed  all  about  him  and  left  him  thirst- 
ing. If  a  man  finds  sweetness  in  the  uses  of  such 
adversity,  it  can  only  be  by  virtue  of  the  firmest 
and  calmest  of  tempers.  Sometimes  fellows  starve 
physically  without  a  friend  with  whom  to  share 
their  hardship,  living  perhaps  on  bread,  milk,  and 
oatmeal,  which  they  cook  over  the  study  lamp. 
Occasionally  one  hears  disquieting  rumors  that 
such  short  rations  have  resulted  in  disease  and 
even  death  before  the  authorities  were  aware.  If 
this  be  so,  the  hardships  of  life  in  the  earliest 
mediaeval  university,  though  far  enough  removed 
from  us  to  be  picturesque,  could  hardly  have  been 
more  real. 

The  sickness  of  the  body  politic  has  been  por- 
256 


SOCIAL  AND  ATHLETIC  PEOBLEM 

trayed  with  artistic  sympathy  and  veracity  by  Mr. 
C.  M.  Flandrau,  in  his  "Harvard  Episodes," 
the  wittiest  and  most  searching  of  studies  of  un- 
dergraduate life.  It  is  no  doubt  for  this  reason 
that  the  book  is  both  read  and  resented  by  the 
healthy  and  unthinking  college  man. 

To  dwell  on  such  individual  instances  would  be 
unpleasant.  The  point  of  importance  is  to  show 
how  the  social  chaos  affects  the  health  of  the 
community  as  a  whole.  As  it  happens,  we  have  a 
barometer.  For  better  or  for  worse,  the  moving 
passion  of  the  undergraduate  body,  aside  from 
studies,  is  athletic  success.  If  athletics  prosper,  it 
is  because  the  life  of  the  college  finds  an  easy  and 
natural  expression  ;  if  athletics  languish,  there  is 
pretty  sure  to  be  some  check  on  wholesome  func- 
tioning. 

The  causes  of  Harvard's  abundant  failures  and 
the  remedies  have  been  a  fertile  theme  of  discussion. 
One  cause  is  obvious.  The  rivals  with  distress- 
ing frequency  have  produced  better  teams.  Every 
one  knows  that  what  Cambridge  chooses  to  call 
Yale  luck  is  nine  parts  Yale  pluck ;  and  the  qual- 
ity is  well  developed  at  Princeton,  Pennsylvania, 
and  elsewhere.  But  why  is  it  developed  at  these 
places  more  than  at  Harvard?  The  explanations 
are  legion.  The  first  cry  was  bad  coaching.  This 
257 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

was  repeated  until  the  fault  was  corrected,  at  least 
in  part,  and  until  every  one  was  wholly  tired  of 
hearing  the  explanation.  Then  came  the  cry  of 
bad  physical  training.  This  in  turn  was  repeated 
until  it  brought  partial  remedy  and  total  weariness 
of  the  agitation.  By  and  by,  all  other  complaints 
having  been  worn  threadbare,  Harvard's  defeat 
was  attributed  to  the  fog  on  Soldier's  Field.  It 
is  not  unlikely  that  the  fog  will  be  dissipated 
and  the  athletes  duly  benefited.  Yet  it  is  far 
from  certain  that  this  will  make  the  athletic  body 
sound. 

The  fault  lies  deeper  than  Yale  pluck  —  or  even 
the  fog  on  Soldier's  Field.  It  is  to  be  found  in 
the  conditions,  social,  administrative,  and  even  edu- 
cational, which  are  at  the  basis  of  the  life  of  the 
university.  If  these  conditions  were  peculiar  to 
Harvard,  it  would  decidedly  not  be  worth  while 
to  discuss  them  publicly.  But  they  are  inherent 
in  the  type  of  university  of  which  Harvard  is  the 
earliest  and  most  developed  example,  and  are  des- 
tined to  crop  out  in  every  American  institution  of 
learning  in  proportion  as  it  grows,  as  Harvard  has 
grown,  from  the  English  college  of  a  few  decades 
ago  into  the  Teutonized  university  of  the  present 
and  of  the  future.  In  considering  the  causes,  it  is 
necessary  to  speak  concretely  of  our  one  eminent 
258  % 


SOCIAL  AND   ATHLETIC   PKOBLEM 

example ;  but  the  main  fact  brought  out  will  be 
applicable  in  greater  or  less  degree  to  the  present 
or  future  of  any  American  college. 

The  sources  of  Harvard's  weakness  are  mainly- 
social.  When  the  college  was  small,  it  had  its 
share  of  victory ;  but  almost  from  the  year  when  it 
began  to  outgrow  its  rivals,  its  prowess  declined. 
Forty  years  ago,  and  even  less,  the  undergraduate 
constitution  of  American  institutions  was,  roughly 
speaking,  that  of  the  colleges  of  Oxford  and  Cam- 
bridge :  a  freshman  was  measurably  sure  of  falling 
into  easy  relationship  with  the  fellows  of  his  class 
and  of  other  classes,  and  thus  of  finding  his  level 
or  his  pinnacle  in  athletic  teams  and  in  clubs. 
Considered  as  a  machine  for  developing  good  fel- 
lows and  good  sportsmen,  it  was  well  adjusted  and 
well  oiled ;  it  worked.  But  it  was  not  capable  of 
expansion.  Two  or  three  hundred  fellows  can  live 
and  even  dine  together  with  comfort  and  an  in- 
crease of  mutual  understanding ;  they  soon  become 
an  organized  community.  When  a  thousand  or 
two  live  as  a  single  community  and  dine  at  one 
board  (let  us  call  it  dining),  the  social  bond  re- 
laxes. Next  door  neighbors  are  unknown  to  one 
another,  having  no  common  ground  of  meeting, 
and  even  the  college  commons  fail  to  bring  them 
together.  The  relaxing  influence  of  the  hour  spent 
259 


/ 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFOED 

/  at  table  and  in  the  subsequent  conversation,  dur- 
ing which  social  intercourse  should  most  freely 
flourish,  is  quite  lost.  The  undergraduate  body  is 
a  mob,  or  at  best  an  aggregation  of  shifting  cliques. 
If  men  live  in  crowds  or  in  cliques,  their  life  is 
that  of  crowds  or  of  cliques,  and  is  unprofitable 
both  to  themselves  and  to  the  community  that 
should  prosper  by  their  loyal  activity. 

It  is  true  that  there  are  societies  and  clubs,  but 
these  also  to  a  certain  degree  have  been  swamped 
in  the  rising  tide  of  undergraduates.  With  fresh- 
man classes  as  large  as  those  of  to-day,  the  old 
social  machinery  becomes  incapable  of  sifting  the 
clubable  from  the  less  clubable,  those  who  deserve 
recognition  in  the  body  of  undergraduates  from 
those  who  do  not.  The  evil  is  increased  by  the 
fact  that  as  a  rule  in  America  the  social  life  is 
organized  early  in  the  undergraduate  course,  so 
that  the  men  who  fail  of  election  in  the  first  year 
or  two  have  failed  for  good.  There  are,  to  be 
sure,  cases  in  which  men  who  have  later  developed 
signal  merit  have  been  taken  into  the  all-important 
societies  and  clubs  of  the  upper  classmen,  and 
sometimes  these  societies  make  a  special  and  most 
creditable  effort  thus  to  remedy  the  failures  of  the 
system ;  but  the  men  who  are  thus  elected  are  an 
exception,  and  an  exception  of  the  kind  that  proves 
260 


SOCIAL  AND  ATHLETIC  PROBLEM 

the  rule.  Unless  a  man  has  been  prominent  in 
one  of  the  large  preparatory  schools,  or  becomes 
prominent  in  athletics  in  the  first  year  or  so,  there 
is  only  one  way  to  make  sure  of  meeting  such  fel- 
lows as  he  wishes  to  know,  and  that  is  both  to 
choose  friends  and  to  avoid  them  with  an  eye  to 
social  chances,  a  method  which  is  scarcely  to  be 
commended.  As  the  incoming  classes  grow  larger, 
there  is  an  increasingly  large  proportion  of  under- 
graduates who  fail  to  qualify  in  the  first  year  or 
two  in  any  of  these  ways.  Throughout  their 
course  they  neither  receive  benefit  from  the  gen- 
eral life  of  the  university  nor  contribute  to  it. 
They  are  often  of  loyal  and  disinterested  charac- 
ter, and  they  not  infrequently  develop  into  men 
of  exceptional  ability  in  all  of  the  paths  of  under- 
graduate life  ;  not  a  few  of  them  have  been  'varsity 
captains.  But  instead  of  exerting  the  influence 
on  the  welfare  of  the  university  which  such  men 
might  and  should  exert,  they  find  it  impossible  to 
get  into  the  main  currents,  and  revolve  impotently 
on  the  outside,  each  in  the  particular  eddy  where 
fate  has  thrust  him. 

At  Harvard,  where  the  evil  has  long  been  recog- 
nized, a  remedy  has  been  sought  in  increasing  the 
membership  of   the  great   sophomore   and   senior 
societies,  the  Institute  of  1770  and  the  Hasty  Pud- 
261 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

ding  Club.  The  result  has  been  the  reverse  of 
what  was  intended.  The  larger  the  club  the  less 
compact  its  life  and  its  influence,  —  what  a  few 
men  have  gained  the  club  has  lost.  The  tendency 
toward  disintegration  is  confirmed  by  a  peculiarity 
of  the  organization  of  the  societies.  The  first  half 
of  the  members  of  the  Institute  form  a  separate 
club,  the  D.  K.  E.,  or  Dickey.  From  this  the  sec- 
ond half  are  excluded,  becoming  a  sort  of  social 
fringe ;  they  often  form  a  part  of  the  mob  that 
dines  at  Memorial  or  of  the  cliques  that  dine  in 
boarding-houses,  and  are  only  a  shade  less  ex- 
cluded than  the  rest  from  the  centres  of  the  col- 
lege life.  If  this  inner  club,  the  Dickey,  were  the 
instrument  of  a  united  and  efficient  public  spirit, 
the  case  would  not  be  so  bad,  but  its  members  in 
turn  are  split  into  a  number  of  small  clubs ;  as  a 
social  organization  the  Dickey  is  mainly  a  name. 
If  now  these  small  clubs  took  a  strong  part  in  the 
general  life  of  the  college,  the  case  would  still  not 
be  so  bad ;  but  each  spends  its  main  strength  in 
struggling  with  the  others  to  secure  as  many  mem- 
bers as  possible  from  the  first  ten  of  the  Dickey. 
They  are  scarcely  to  be  regarded  as  engines  of 
public  spirit. 

The  same  is  true  of  the  great  senior  society,  the 
Hasty  Pudding.     Its  most  prominent  members 
262 


SOCIAL   AND   ATHLETIC   PROBLEM 

belong  to  the  few  small  clubs  of  upper  classmen  ; 
the  rest  are  as  much  a  social  fringe  as  the  later 
tens  of  the  Institute.  And  the  senior  clubs,  like 
the  clubs  of  the  under  classmen,  are  more  inter- 
ested in  their  private  politics  than  in  the  policy  of 
the  college  as  a  whole.  At  Yale  the  senior  societies 
still  exert  a  strong  and  generally  wholesome  influ- 
ence, but  at  Harvard  they  have  long  ceased  to  do 
so,  if  they  ever  did.  In  proportion  as  a  man  is  suc- 
cessful in  the  social  world  the  system  lifts  him  out 
of  the  body  of  undergraduate  life.  The  reward  of 
athletic  distinction  or  of  good-fellowship  is  a  sort 
of  pool  pocket,  upon  getting  into  which  a  man  is 
definitely  out  of  the  game.  The  leaders  in  the 
college  life,  social  and  athletic,  are  chosen  on  the 
superficial  tests  of  the  freshman  year,  and  are 
not  truly  representative  ;  and  the  organization  of 
which  they  become  a  part  is  calculated  only  to 
suppress  general  and  efficient  public  spirit.  The 
outer  layers  are  dead  wood  and  the  kernels  sterile. 
This  is  at  least  one  reason  why  Harvard  does  not 
oftener  win. 

In  all  this  there  is  no  place  for  a  philosophy  of 
despair.  The  spirit  of  the  undergraduate,  clubbed 
and  unclubbed,  is  normal  and  sound.  The  efforts 
which  the  clubs  themselves  make  from  time  to 
time  to  become  representative  are  admirably  pub- 
263 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

lie  spirited ;  and  there  is  no  less  desire  on  the  part 
of  the  outsiders  to  live  for  the  best  interests  of  the 
college.  On  the  day  of  an  athletic  contest  the 
university  is  behind  the  team,  heart  and  lungs; 
and  when  defeat  comes  it  is  felt  alike  by  all  condi- 
tions of  men.  From  time  to  time  ancient  athletes 
journey  to  Cambridge  to  exhort  the  undergraduate 
body  to  pull  together ;  and  it  is  a  poor  orator  in- 
deed who  cannot  set  in  motion  strong  currents  of 
enthusiasm.  Half  an  hour  of  earnest  talk  on  the 
strenuous  life  from  Theodore  Roosevelt  has  often 
been  known  to  raise  a  passion  of  aspiration  that 
has  positively  lasted  for  weeks.  But  the  social 
system  cannot  be  galvanized  into  life  and  function- 
ing. The  undergraduates  aspire  and  strive,  but 
every  effort  is  throttled  by  a  Little  Old  Man  of  the 
Sea.  When  all  is  said  and  done,  the  mob  and 
the  cliques  remain  mob  and  cliques ;  with  discord 
within  and  exclusive  without,  there  is  small  hope 
of  organized  efficiency. 

At  Yale  the  oligarchic  spirit  of  the  senior  socie- 
ties is  compact  and  operative  where  that  of  the 
Harvard  clubs  is  not;  but  Yale  also  is  being 
swamped.  The  vast  and  increasing  mob  of  the 
unaffiliated  has  several  times  within  the  last  de- 
cade shown  a  shocking  disrespect  for  the  sacred 
authority  of  the  captains ;  and  the  non-represent- 
264 


SOCIAL  AND  ATHLETIC  PROBLEM 

ative  character  of  the  sophomore  societies,  from 
which  the  senior  societies  are  recruited,  has  been 
a  public  scandal.  One  result  of  this  disorder  is 
that  the  ancient  athletic  prestige  is  slipping  away, 
or  is  so  far  in  abeyance  that  it  is  again  a  question 
whether  Harvard  or  Yale  has  —  shall  we  say  the 
worse  team  ?  The  case  of  the  older  universities  is 
typical.  Other  institutions  are  expanding  as  fast 
or  faster,  and  it  is  only  a  question  of  time  when 
the  increase  of  numbers  will  swamp  the  social 
system. 

That  there  is  something  rotten  in  the  state  of 
Denmark  has  of  late  been  officially  recognized,  at 
least  at  Harvard.  In  order  to  create  a  general 
social  and  athletic  life  in  the  community  a  Union 
has  been  established,  modeled  on  the  Oxford 
Union.  It  would  be  pleasant  to  picture  the  Col- 
lege House  of  the  future  shaking  hands  with  Clav- 
erly,  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  linking  elbows  with  the 
Porcellian,  and  the  fellows  who  now,  in  spite  of 
a  desire  to  be  sociable,  have  lived  through  four 
years  of  solitary  confinement  each  in  his  petty 
circle,  enjoying  the  bosom  friendship  of  all  the 
men  they  may  desire  to  know.  It  would  be  plea- 
sant but  perhaps  not  altogether  warrantable,  when 
one  considers  the  essential  nature  of  the  Union. 

The  Oxford  Union  of  celebrity,  as  has  been 
265 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

pointed  out  in  an  earlier  chapter,  is  a  thing  of  the 
past.  It  was  an  exclusive  institution,  in  which  no 
attempt  was  made  to  foster  universal  brotherhood. 
When  it  was  thrown  open  to  the  entire  undergrad- 
uate world,  it  lost  caste  and  authority.  The  elect 
flocked  by  themselves  each  in  his  own  exclusive 
club.  If  the  Harvard  Union  had  been  modeled 
on  the  old  exclusive  Oxford  Union,  it  might  per- 
haps have  been  equally  efficient  in  bringing  to- 
gether a  broadly  representative  body  of  men.  But 
it  was  modeled  on  the  modern  democratic  Union. 
Here  is  a  plain  case :  When  the  Oxford  Union 
ceased  to  be  exclusive,  its  best  elements  flocked  by 
themselves,  and  the  result  is  a  growth  of  small 
exclusive  clubs.  At  Harvard  the  exclusive  clubs 
and  societies  are  both  ancient  and  honorable,  and, 
moreover,  very  comfortable,  and  it  hardly  seems 
likely  that  their  members  will  rout  themselves  out 
of  their  cosy  corners  to  join  the  merry  rout  at  the 
Harvard  Union. 

This  is  not  to  cast  a  gloomy  eye  upon  the  new 
university  club;  it  is  rather  by  way  of  empha- 
sizing the  importance  of  the  work  it  has  to  do,  and 
will  succeed  in  doing.  Hitherto  the  lounging 
grounds  of  the  unaffiliated  (alas !  that  in  such  an 
alma  mater  so  many  are  forever  unaffiliated!) 
have  been  public  billiard-rooms  and  tobacco  shops. 
266 


SOCIAL  AND  ATHLETIC  PROBLEM 

For  the  solace  of  a  midnight  supper  one  had  to  go 
to  the  locally  familiar  straw-hatted  genius  of  the 
sandwich,  and  for  the  luxury  of  a  late  breakfast  to 
John  of  the  Holly  Tree.  And  John  the  Orange 
Man!  Great  worthies  these,  ancient  and  most 
honorable.  But  even  in  the  enchantment  of  retro- 
spect they  somehow  or  other  explain  why  so  many 
fellows  choose  to  live,  for  the  most  part,  in  small 
cliques  in  one  another's  rooms  and  cultivate  the 
deadly  chafing-dish.  For  the  unaffiliated  —  by  far 
the  larger  part  of  each  class  —  the  new  club-house 
will  be  a  Godsend.  It  is  much  more  fun  to  cut  a 
nine-o'clock  lecture  if  you  are  sure  of  a  comfort- 
able chair  at  breakfast  and  a  real  napkin  ;  and 
even  in  the  brutal  gladness  of  youth,  it  is  pleasant 
at  a  midnight  supper  to  be  seated.  And  then, 
after  that  athletic  dinner  at  Memorial,  a  place  to 
loaf  quietly  over  a  pipe  with  whatever  congenial 
spirit  one  finds,  and  listen  to  the  clicking  of  bil- 
liard-balls !  It  is  also  proposed  that  the  'varsity 
athletes  have  their  training  tables  at  the  new 
Union,  so  that  any  fellow  may  come  to  know  them 
clothed  and  in  their  right  minds.  I  fancy  that  the 
new  club  will  leave  those  old  worthies  a  trifle  lone- 
some, and  will  banish  the  chafing-dish  forever. 

The  spirit  of  an  old  graduate    somehow  takes 
kindly  to  the  idea  of  a  place  like  that.     How  the 
267 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

spirit  of  Bishop  Brooks,  for  instance,  would  enjoy 
slipping  in  of  an  evening  for  the  cigar  they  have 
denied  him  in  the  house  erected  in  his  memory ! 
And  for  the  graduate  in  the  flesh  the  club-house 
will  be  no  less  welcome,  especially  if  he  is  unlucky 
enough  not  to  have  a  club  of  his  own  to  go  back 
to.  To  love  one's  alma  mater  it  is,  of  course,  not 
necessary  to  have  a  club ;  but  it  somehow  inter- 
feres with  the  sentiment  of  a  home-coming  to  be 
obliged  to  go  back  to  Boston  by  trolley  for  lunch- 
eon and  dinner,  and  to  eat  it  among  aliens.  In 
the  new  Union  it  will  even  be  possible  to  put  up 
for  the  night.  A  long  step  has  been  made  in 
advance  of  the  old  unhappy  order.  Yet  the  new 
Union  leaves  the  vital  evil  in  the  community  life 
as  far  as  ever  from  solution. 

What  the  authorities  have  failed  to  do  con- 
sciously may,  according  to  present  indications,  be 
accomplished,  in  some  manner  at  least,  by  an  un- 
conscious growth.  When  Memorial  became  inad- 
equate to  the  mere  demand  for  seating-room,  new 
dining-halls  were  established.  In  the  future  it  is 
possible  that  these  new  halls  may  be  kept  within 
the  line  where  community  life  becomes  impossible 
and  mob  life  begins.  If  they  could  be,  the  pro- 
blem would  be  at  least  one  step  nearer  solution. 
But  to  gain  the  highest  effect  of  community  organi- 
268 


SOCIAL  AND  ATHLETIC  PROBLEM 

zation,  it  is  necessary  that  the  men  who  dine  in  the 
same  hall  shall  live  near  one  another.  Under  the 
present  system  this  rarely  happens,  and  when  it 
does,  it  does  not  even  follow  that  they  know  one 
another  by  sight.  Until  the  halls  represent  some 
real  division  in  undergraduate  life  —  separate  and 
organized  communities  —  they  must  remain  the  re- 
sort of  a  student  mob. 

Fortunately,  another  movement  is  discernible  in 
the  direction  of  separate  residential  organization. 
Already  certain  of  the  dormitories  in  American 
universities  are  governed  democratically  by  the 
inmates :  no  student  is  admitted  except  by  order 
of  a  committee  of  the  members.  The  fraternity 
houses  so  widely  diffused  in  America  offer  a  still 
better  example,  almost  a  counterpart,  of  the  halls 
of  the  golden  age  of  the  mediaeval  university.  Any 
considerable  development  of  hall  or  fraternity  life 
in  the  great  universities  would  result  in  a  dual 
organization  of  the  kind  that  has  proved  of  such 
advantage  in  England,  so  that  a  man  would  have 
his  residence  in  a  small  democratic  community,  and 
satisfy  his  more  special  interests  in  the  exclusive 
clubs  of  the  university.  In  such  an  arrangement 
the  hall  would  profit  by  the  clubman  as  the  club- 
man would  gain  influence  through  the  hall.  All 
undergraduates  would  thus  be  united  in  the  gen- 
269 


AN  AMEEICAN  AT  OXFORD 

eral  university  life  in  a  way  which  is  now  un- 
dreamed of,  and  which  is  unlikely,  as  I  think,  even 
in  the  new  Harvard  Union. 

The  tendency  toward  division  in  the  dining-halls 
and  the  dormitories  is  evident  also  in  athletics ; 
but  here  it  is  very  far  from  unconscious.  The 
division  by  classes  long  ago  ceased  to  be  an  ade- 
quate means  of  developing  material  for  the  'varsity 
teams,  and  when  the  English  rowing  coach,  Mr.  R. 
C.  Lehmann,  was  in  charge  of  the  Harvard  oars- 
men, he  outlined  a  plan  for  developing  separate 
crews  not  unlike  the  college  crews  of  England. 
This  system  has  since  been  effected  with  excellent 
results.  Separate  boating  clubs  have  been  estab- 
lished, each  of  which  has  races  among  its  own 
crews  and  races  with  the  crews  of  its  rivals.  Only 
one  thing  has  prevented  the  complete  success  of 
the  system.  The  division  into  clubs  is  factitious, 
representing  no  real  rivalry  such  as  exists  among 
English  colleges.  To  supply  this  rivalry,  it  is 
only  necessary  that  each  boat  club  shall  represent 
a  hall.  The  same  division  would  of  course  be 
equally  of  benefit  in  all  branches  of  sport.  The 
various  teams  within  the  university  would  then 
represent  a  real  social  rivalry,  such  as  has  long 
ceased  to  exist.  This  could  scarcely  fail  to  pro- 
duce the  effect  that  has  been  so  remarkable  at  the 
270 


SOCIAL  AND  ATHLETIC  PEOBLEM 

English  universities.  As  in  England,  a  multiplica- 
tion of  contests  would  on  the  one  hand  develop  far 
better  university  material,  and  on  the  other  hand 
it  would  lessen  rather  than  exaggerate  the  exces- 
sive importance  of  intercollegiate  contests. 


271 


n 

THE  ADMINISTRATIVE  PROBLEM 

THE  administrative  evil  of  the  American  uni- 
versity, as  typified  in  Harvard,  Mr.  Bolles 
described  even  more  vividly  than  the  social  evil. 
The  bare  fact  of  the  problem  he  stated  as  follows : 
"  In  1840  the  college  contained  250  students ;  in 
1850,  300  ;  in  1860,  450  ;  in  1870,  600 ;  in  1880, 
800  ;  in  1890,  1300 ;  in  1894,  1600."  He  then 
pointed  out  that  the  only  means  the  authorities  have 
found  for  meeting  this  increasing  demand  on  the 
administrative  office  is,  not  to  divide  the  students 
into  separate  small  bodies  each  under  a  single  ad- 
ministrator, but  to  divide  the  duties  of  administra- 
tion among  several  officers.  Thus  each  of  the  added 
officers  is  required  to  perform  his  duty  toward  the 
entire  student  body.  It  is  apparently  assumed  that 
he  can  discharge  one  duty  toward  two  or  three 
thousand  students  as  intelligently  as  in  former  years 
he  could  discharge  two  or  three  duties  toward  two 
or  three  hundred.  By  this  arrangement  the  most 
valuable  factor  in  administration  is  eliminated  — 
personal  knowledge  and  personal  contact  between 
272 


THE  ADMINISTRATIVE  PROBLEM 

the  administrator  and  his  charges.  It  is  said  that 
the  members  of  the  administrative  board  of  the  col- 
lege —  professors  whose  time  is  of  extreme  value  to 
the  university  and  to  the  world,  and  who  receive  no 
pay  as  administrators  —  sit  three  hours  a  night  three 
nights  in  the  week  deciding  the  cases  that  come 
before  them,  not  from  personal  knowledge  of  the 
undergraduates  concerned,  but  from  oral  and  doc- 
umentary reports.  "It  is  only  by  a  fiction  that 
the  Recorder  [or  the  Dean,  or  the  member  of  the 
administrative  board]  can  be  assumed  to  have  any 
personal  knowledge  of  even  a  half  of  the  men 
whose  absences  he  counts,  whose  petitions  he  acts 
upon,  and  against  whose  delinquencies  he  remon- 
strates ;  yet  the  fiction  is  maintained  while  its 
absurdity  keeps  on  growing.  ...  If  the  rate  of 
growth  and  our  present  administrative  system  are 
maintained,  the  Dean  and  Recorder  of  Harvard 
College  will  [in  1950]  be  personally  caring  for 
6500  individuals,  with  all  of  whom  they  will  be 
presumed  to  have  an  intelligent  acquaintance." 

Mr.  Bolles  lived  through  the  period  in  which  a 
brilliant  band  of  German-trained  American  pro- 
fessors, having  made  over  our  educational  system 
as  far  as  possible  on  German  lines,  were  endeavor- 
ing to  substitute  German  discipline,  or  lack  of  it,  for 
the  traditional  system  of  collegiate  residence  which 
273 


AN  AMERICAN    AT  OXFORD 

aims  to  make  the  college  a  well-regulated  social  com- 
munity. At  one  time  these  reformers  rejoiced  in  the 
fact  that  Harvard  students  attended  the  ice  carni- 
val at  Montreal  or  basked  in  the  Bermudan  sun 
while  the  faculty  had  no  means  of  knowing  where 
they  were  and  no  responsibility  for  the  success  of 
their  college  work.  The  Overseers,  however,  were 
not  in  sympathy  with  the  Teutonized  faculty,  and 
soon  put  an  end  to  this  ;  but  the  reformers  were, 
and  perhaps  still  are,  only  waiting  the  opportunity 
to  establish  again  the  Teutonic  license.  "  It  is 
sometimes  said,"  Mr.  Bolles  continues,  "  that  Har- 
vard may  eventually  free  itself  from  all  its  remain- 
ing parental  responsibility  and  leave  students' 
habits,  health,  and  morals  to  their  individual  care, 
confining  itself  to  teaching,  research,  and  the  grant- 
ing of  degrees.  Before  it  can  do  this,  it  must  be 
freed  from  dormitories.  As  long  as  fifteen  hundred 
of  its  students  live  in  monastic  quarters  provided 
or  approved  by  the  university,  so  long  must  the 
university  be  held  responsible  by  the  city,  by  par- 
ents, and  by  society  at  large,  for  the  sanitary  and 
moral  condition  of  such  quarters.  The  dormitory 
system  implies  and  necessitates  oversight  of  health 
and  morals.  The  trouble  to-day  is  that  the  admin- 
istrative machinery  in  use  is  not  capable  of  doing 
all  that  is  and  ought  to  be  expected  of  it.  .  .  .  If  it 
274 


THE   ADMINISTRATIVE   PROBLEM 

be  determined  openly  that  the  health  and  morals 
of  Harvard  undergraduates  are  not  to  occupy  the 
attention  of  the  Dean  and  Board  of  the  college, 
then  the  present  system  may  be  perpetuated,  but 
if  this  determination  is  not  reached,  then  either  the 
system  must  be  changed  or  the  present  attempt  to 
accomplish  the  impossible  will  go  on  until  something 


Since  Mr.  Bolles's  day  there  has  been  much  ear- 
nest effort  to  solve  the  administrative  problem ;  but 
the  difficulties  have  increased  rather  than  dimin- 
ished. The  duties  of  the  Dean  are  still  much  the 
same  as  when  the  freshman  class  numbered  one 
hundred  instead  of  five.  Only  the  Dean  has  been 
improved.  He  is  at  least  five  times  as  human  and 
five  times  as  earnest  as  any  other  Dean ;  but  the 
freshman  class  keeps  on  growing,  and  when  he  has 
satisfied  his  very  exacting  conscience  and  retires 
(or,  not  having  satisfied  his  conscience,  perishes), 
no  man  knows  where  his  better  is  to  be  found.  Of 
the  Secretary  and  the  Recorder  and  his  assistants 
Mr.  Bolles  has  spoken.  A  Regent  has  among 
other  duties  a  general  charge  of  the  rooms  the 
fellows  live  in,  and  usually  makes  each  room  and 
its  occupant  a  yearly  visit  —  which  the  occupant, 
in  the  perversity  of  undergraduate  nature,  regards 
as  a  visitation.  Then  there  is  the  physician.  So 
275 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

large  a  proportion  of  the  undergraduates  were  found 
to  be  isolated  and  unhappy  in  their  circumstances, 
and  remote  from  the  knowledge  of  the  authorities, 
that  it  became  necessary  to  appoint  some  one  to 
whom  they  might  appeal  in  need.  Thus  the  details 
as  to  each  undergraduate's  residence  are  in  the 
hands  of  seven  different  officials,  each  of  whom,  in 
order  to  attain  the  best  results,  requires  a  personal 
acquaintance  with  the  thousands  of  undergraduates. 
Furthermore  the  entire  body  of  undergraduates 
changes  every  four  years.  If  every  administrator 
had  the  commodity  of  lives  commonly  attributed 
to  the  cat,  the  duties  of  their  offices  would  still  be 
infinitely  beyond  them. 

Mr.  Bolles  suggested  a  solution  of  the  adminis- 
trative problem :  "  If  the  college  is  too  large  for  its 
dean  and  administrative  board  to  manage  in  the 
way  most  certain  to  benefit  its  students,  it  should 
be  divided,  using  as  a  divisor  the  number  .  .  . 
which  experts  may  agree  in  thinking  is  the  number 
of  young  men  whom  one  dean  and  board  should 
be  expected  to  know  and  govern  effectively.' ' 

When  Mr.  Bolles  wrote,  one  class  of  administra- 
tive officer  and  one  only  was  limited  in  his  duties 
to  a  single  small  community :  in  each  building  in 
which  students  lived,  a  proctor  resided  who  was 
supposed  to  see  that  the  Regent's  orders  were 
276 


THE  ADMINISTRATIVE   PROBLEM 

enforced.  Since  then  another  step  has  been  taken 
in  the  same  direction  ;  a  board  of  advisers  has  been 
established,  each  member  of  which  is  supposed  to 
have  a  helpful  care  of  twenty-five  freshmen.  These 
two  officials,  it  will  be  seen,  divide  the  adminis- 
trative duties  of  an  English  tutor.  That  they 
represent  a  step  toward  Mr.  Bolles's  solution  of 
the  administrative  difficulty  has  probably  never 
occurred  to  the  authorities ;  and  as  yet  it  must  be 
admitted  the  step  is  mainly  theoretical.  The  posi- 
tion of  both,  as  I  know  from  sad  personal  experi- 
ence, is  such  that  their  duties,  like  those  of  all 
other  administrators,  resolve  into  a  mere  matter  of 
police  regulation.  The  men  are  apt  to  resist  all 
friendly  advances.  In  the  end,  a  proctor's  activi- 
ties usually  consist  in  preventing  them  of  a  Sunday 
from  shouting  too  loud  over  games  of  indoor  football, 
and  at  other  times  from  blowing  holes  through  the 
cornice  with  shotguns.  The  case  of  the  freshman 
adviser  is  much  the  same.  His  first  duty  is  to 
expound  to  his  charges  the  mysteries  of  the  elective 
system,  and  to  help  each  student  choose  his  courses. 
According  to  the  original  intention,  he  was  to 
exert  as  far  as  possible  a  beneficial  personal  in- 
fluence on  newcomers ;  but  the  result  seldom  fol- 
lows the  intention.  Beyond  the  visit  which  each 
freshman  is  obliged  to  make  to  his  adviser  in 
277 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

order  to  have  his  list  of  electives  duly  signed, 
there  is  nothing  except  misdemeanor  to  bring  the 
two  within  the  same  horizon.  When  the  adviser 
takes  pains  to  proffer  hospitality,  the  freshman's 
first  thought  is  that  he  is  to  be  disciplined.  When, 
as  often  happens,  a  proctor  is  also  a  freshman 
adviser,  he  unites  the  two  administrative  duties  of 
an  English  tutor;  but  his  position  is  much  less 
favorable  in  that  his  duties  are  performed  toward 
two  distinct  bodies  of  men.  With  time,  tact,  and 
labor,  he  might  conceivably  force  himself  into  per- 
sonal relationship  with  his  fifty-odd  charges ;  but 
the  inevitable  ground  of  meeting,  such  as  the  Eng- 
lish tutor  finds  in  his  teaching,  is  lacking.  An 
attempt  to  become  acquainted  is  very  apt  to  ap- 
pear gratuitous.  In  point  of  fact,  such  acquaint- 
ance is  scarcely  expected  by  the  university,  and 
is  certainly  not  paid  for.  What  little  an  admin- 
istrator earns  is  apt  to  be  so  much  an  hour  (and 
not  so  very  much)  for  teaching.  A  gratuitous 
office  is  so  difficult  that  one  hesitates  to  perform 
it  gratuitously.  If  the  young  instructor  is  bent 
on  making  himself  unnecessary  trouble,  there  is 
plenty  of  opportunity  in  connection  with  his  teach- 
ing ;  and  here,  of  course,  owing  to  the  characteris- 
tic lack  of  organic  coordination,  he  has  to  deal 
with  a  body  of  men  who,  except  by  rare  accident, 
278 


THE   ADMINISTRATIVE   PROBLEM 

are  quite  distinct  both  from  those  whom  he  advises 
and  those  whom  he  proctorizes.  The  system  at 
Harvard  may  be  different  in  detail  from  that  at 
other  American  universities  ;  but  wherever  a  large 
body  of  undergraduates  are  living  under  a  single 
administrative  system,  it  can  scarcely  be  different 
in  kind. 

Enough  has  been  said  to  show  that  the  only 
office  which  an  administrator  can  perform  is  a 
police  office.  Where  the  college  and  the  univer- 
sity are  identical,  the  element  of  personal  influence 
is  necessarily  eliminated.  But  if  the  college  were 
divided  into  separate  administrative  units,  the 
situation  would  be  very  different.  The  seven  gen- 
eral and  two  special  offices  I  have  indicated  might 
be  discharged,  as  regards  each  undergraduate,  by 
a  dean  and  a  few  proctor-advisers ;  and  as  the  stu- 
dents and  their  officers  would  be  living  in  the 
same  building,  personal  knowledge  and  influence 
might  become  the  controlling  force.  The  solution 
of  the  administrative  problem  is  identical  with 
the  solution  of  the  social  and  athletic  problem,  and 
in  both  cases  a  movement  toward  it  is  begun. 
If  the  student  body  is  eventually  divided  into  resi- 
dential halls  of  the  early  mediaeval  type,  much  good 
will  result,  and  probably  nothing  but  good,  even 
if  the  tutorial  function  proper  is  absent.  As  to 
279 


AN  AMEKICAN  AT  OXFOKD 

the  addition  of  the  tutorial  function,  that  is  a 
question  of  extreme  complexity  and  uncertainty, 
in  order  to  grasp  which  it  is  necessary  to  review 
the  peculiar  educational  institutions  of  American 
universities. 


280 


Ill 

THE  EDUCATIONAL  PROBLEM 

AS  regards  the  American  teaching  system,  the 
-£jL  fact  that  the  college  so  long  remained  iden- 
tical with  the  university  has  caused  little  else  than 
good.  At  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  when  a  demand 
arose  for  instruction  in  new  fields,  the  university 
could  not  meet  it  because  it  had  little  or  no  wealth 
and  had  surrendered  its  teaching  function  ;  and 
the  score  of  richly  endowed  colleges,  by  force  of 
their  inertia,  collectively  resisted  the  demand. 
The  enlargement  in  the  scope  of  instruction  has 
been  of  the  slowest.  In  America,  each  new  de- 
mand instantly  created  its  supply.  The  moment 
the  students  in  theology  required  more  than  a  single 
professor,  their  tuition  fees  as  well  as  other  funds 
could  be  applied  to  the  creation  of  a  divinity 
school ;  and  the  professorships  in  law,  medicine, 
and  the  technical  professions  were  likewise  organ- 
ized into  schools,  each  fully  equipped  under  a 
separate  faculty  for  the  pursuit  of  its  special 
aim.  Thus  the  ancient  college  was  developed  by 
segregation  into  a  fully  organized  modern  univer- 
281 


AN   AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

sity.  American  institutions  are  composed  of  a 
reduplication,  not  of  similar  colleges,  but  of  dis- 
tinct schools,  each  with  its  special  subject  to  teach. 
This  fact  makes  possible  a  far  higher  standard  of 
instruction.  The  virtue  of  the  administrative  and 
social  organization  in  the  English  university,  as 
has  been  pointed  out,  results  from  division  of  the 
university  into  separate  communities,  —  distinct 
organs,  each  with  its  separate  activity.  The  vir- 
tue of  the  American  university  in  its  teaching 
functions  results  from  a  precisely  similar  cause. 

In  the  case  of  the  college,  one  or  two  details 
have  lately  been  the  occasion  of  criticism.  In  the 
educational  as  in  the  social  and  administrative 
functions,  the  machinery  is  apparently  overgrown. 
Until  well  into  the  nineteenth  century,  the  body 
of  instruction  offered  was  much  the  same  as  in 
the  English  colleges  of  the  seventeenth  century,  or 
in  the  pass  schools  of  to-day,  —  a  modified  version 
of  the  mediaeval  trivium  and  quadrivium.  When 
a  new  world  of  intellectual  life  was  opened,  most 
academic  leaders  regarded  it  with  abhorrence. 
The  old  studies  were  the  only  studies  to  develop 
the  manners  and  the  mind ;  the  new  studies  were 
barbarous,  and  dwarfed  the  understanding.  All 
learning  had  been  contained  in  a  pint -pot,  and 
must  continue  to  be  so.  If  the  old  curriculum  had 
.      282 


THE   EDUCATIONAL  PROBLEM 

prevailed,  the  old  system  might  have  continued 
to  serve,  in  spite  of  the  enormous  increase  of  stu- 
dents ;  but  it  did  not.  Discussions  of  the  educa- 
tional value  of  the  new  learning  are  still  allowed 
to  consume  paper  and  ink ;  but  the  cause  of  the 
old  pint-pot  was  lost  decades  ago.  All  branches 
are  taught,  and  are  open  to  all  students. 

The  live  question  to-day  both  in  England  and 
America  is  not  whether  we  shall  recognize  the 
new  subjects,  but  how  and  in  what  proportion  we 
shall  teach  them.  In  England,  where  the  colleges 
and  the  university  are  separate,  the  teaching  and 
the  examining  are  separate.  The  student  pre- 
pares in  college  for  an  examination  by  the  univer- 
sity. It  is  as  a  result  of  this  that  the  subjects  of 
instruction  have  been  divided  and  organized  into 
honor  schools ;  and  here  again  the  division  and 
organization  have  resulted  in  sounder  and  more 
efficient  functioning.  In  America,  such  a  division 
has  never  been  made :  the  teaching  and  the  de- 
gree-granting offices  have  remained  identical.  The 
professor  in  each  "  course "  is  also  the  examiner, 
and  the  freedom  of  choice  of  necessity  goes  not 
by  groups  of  related  studies  but  by  small  discon- 
nected courses.  As  the  field  of  recognized  know- 
ledge developed,  new  courses  were  added,  and  the 
student  was  granted  a  greater  range  of  choice. 
283 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

"Whereas  of  old  all  the  instruction  of  the  college 
might  and  had  to  be  taken  in  four  years,  the  mod- 
ern courses  could  scarcely  be  exhausted  in  a  full 
century.  This  American  system,  earliest  advo- 
cated at  Harvard,  is  called  the  elective  system, 
and  has  made  its  way,  in  a  more  or  less  developed 
form,  into  all  American  universities  worthy  of  the 
name.  Its  primary  work  was  that  of  the  Oxford 
honor  schools  —  the  shattering  of  the  old  pint-pot. 
It  has  done  this  work ;  but  it  is  now  in  train  to 
become  no  less  a  superstition  than  the  older  sys- 
tem, and  is  thus  no  less  a  menace  to  the  cause  of 
education. 

It  is  perhaps  only  natural,  though  it  was  scarcely 
to  be  expected,  that  the  university  which  in  late 
years  has  most  severely  criticised  the  elective  sys- 
tem is  that  which  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago  de- 
liberately advocated  it,  and  in  the  face  of  almost 
universal  opposition  justified  it  in  the  eyes  of 
American  educators.  There  has  evidently  been  a 
miscalculation.  Yet  though  Harvard  has  cau- 
tiously acknowledged  its  failure  in  the  persons  of 
no  less  authorities  than  Professor  Miinsterberg  and 
Dean  Briggs,  the  element  of  error  has  not  yet  been 
clearly  stated,  nor  has  the  remedy  been  proposed. 
Many  things  have  been  said  against  the  elective 
system,  but  they  may  all  be  summed  up  in  one 
284 


THE  EDUCATIONAL  PROBLEM 

phrase:  it  is  not  elective.  This  is  no  specious 
paradox.  It  is  the  offer  of  free  election  that  is 
specious. 

No  offer  could  seem  fairer.  The  student  is  at 
liberty  to  choose  as  he  will.  He  may  specialize 
microscopically  or  scatter  his  attention  over  the 
universe ;  he  may  elect  the  most  ancient  subjects 
or  the  most  modern,  the  hardest  or  the  easiest. 
No  offer,  I  repeat,  could  seem  fairer.  But  experi- 
ence disillusions.  Some  day  or  other  a  serious 
student  wakes  up  to  the  fact  that  he  is  the  victim 
of  —  shall  we  say  a  thimble-rigging  game  ?  For 
example,  let  us  take  the  case  of  a  serious  special- 
ist. Of  all  the  world's  knowledge  the  serious 
specialist  values  only  one  little  plot.  A  multitude 
of  courses  is  listed  in  the  catalogue,  fairly  exhaust- 
ing his  field.  Delightful !  Clearly  he  can  see 
which  walnut-shell  covers  the  pea.  He  chooses  for 
his  first  year's  study  four  courses  —  the  very  best 
possible  selection,  the  only  selection,  to  open  up  his 
field.  One  moment :  on  closer  scrutiny  he  finds 
that  two  of  the  four  courses  are  given  at  the  same 
hour,  and  that,  therefore,  he  cannot  take  them  in 
the  same  year.  Still,  there  are  at  his  command 
other  courses,  not  so  well  adapted  to  his  purposes, 
but  sooner  or  later  necessary.  He  chooses  one. 
Hold  again !  On  closer  inspection  he  finds  that  ap- 
285 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

pended  to  the  course  is  a  Roman  numeral,  and  that 
the  same  numeral  is  against  one  of  his  other  courses. 
After  half  an  hour's  search  in  the  catalogue  he 
finds  that,  though  the  two  courses  are  given  at  dif- 
ferent hours,  and  indeed  on  different  days  of  the 
week,  the  mid-year  and  final  examinations  in  both 
take  place  on  the  same  days.  Obviously  these  two 
cannot  be  taken  in  the  same  year.  With  damp- 
ened spirits  his  eye  lights  on  a  second  substitute. 
He  could  easily  deny  himself  this  course  ;  but  it  is 
vastly  interesting,  if  not  important,  and  he  must 
arrange  a  year's  work.  Behold,  this  most  inter- 
esting course  was  given  last  year,  and  will  be  given 
next  year,  but  neither  love  nor  money  nor  the  void 
of  a  soul  hungering  for  knowledge  could  induce  the 
professor  who  gives  it  to  deliver  one  sentence  of 
one  lecture ;  he  is  busy  and  more  than  busy  with 
another  course  which  will  not  be  given  next  year. 
The  specialist  is  at  last  forced  to  elect  a  course  he 
does  not  really  want.  One  entanglement  as  to  hours 
of  which  the  present  deponent  had  knowledge  forced 
a  specialist  in  Elizabethan  literature  to  elect  —  and, 
being  a  candidate  for  a  degree  with  distinction,  to 
get  a  high  grade  in  —  a  course  in  the  history  of 
finance  legislation  in  the  United  States.  This  was 
a  tragic  waste,  for  so  many  and  so  minute  are  the 
courses  offered  that  the  years  at  the  student's  dis- 
286 


THE   EDUCATIONAL   PROBLEM 

posal  are  all  too  few  to  cover  even  a  comparatively 
narrow  field.  The  specialist  may  well  ruminate 
on  the  philosophy  of  Alice  and  her  Wonderland 
jam.  Yesterday  he  could  elect  anything,  and  to- 
morrow anything  ;  but  how  empty  is  to-day ! 

Highly  as  the  modern  university  regards  the 
serious  specialist,  a  more  general  sympathy  will 
probably  be  given  to  the  man  who  is  seeking  a  lib- 
eral education.  Such  a  man  knows  that  in  four 
years  at  his  disposal  he  cannot  gain  any  real  sci- 
entific knowledge  even  of  the  studies  of  the  old- 
fashioned  college  curriculum.  As  taught  now,  at 
Harvard,  they  would  occupy,  according  to  Presi- 
dent Eliot's  report  for  1894-95,  twice  four  years. 
But  by  choosing  a  single  group  of  closely  related 
subjects,  and  taking  honors  in  it,  he  hopes  to  mas- 
ter a  considerable  plot .  of  the  field  of  knowledge. 
I  will  not  say  that  he  chooses  the  ancient  classics, 
for  —  though  they  are  admirably  taught  in  a  gen- 
eral way  in  the  great  Oxford  Honor  School  of 
Literae  Humaniores  —  the  American  student  may 
be  held  to  require,  even  in  studying  the  classics, 
a  larger  element  of  scientific  culture,  which  would 
take  more  time  than  is  to  be  had.  For  the  same 
reason  I  will  not  say  that  he  chooses  the  modern 
languages  and  literatures,  though  such  a  choice 
might  be  defended.  Let  us  say  that  he  chooses  a 
287 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

single  modern  language  and  literature  —  his  own.1 
Surely  this  is  not  too  large  a  field  for  four  years' 
study.  Of  classics,  mathematics,  science,  and  his- 
tory he  has  supposedly  been  given  a  working 
knowledge  in  the  preparatory  school.  For  the  rest 
he  relies  on  the  elective  system. 

Even  in  the  beginning,  like  the  specialist,  he  is 
unable  to  choose  the  courses  he  most  wants,  be- 
cause of  the  conflict  of  the  hours  of  instruction  and 
examination ;  and  this  difficulty  pursues  him  year 
by  year,  increasing  as  the  subjects  to  be  taken 
grow  fewer  and  fewer.  But  let  us  dismiss  this  as 
an  incidental  annoyance.  His  fate  is  foreshadowed 
when  he  finds  that  the  multitude  of  courses  by 
which  alone  he  could  cover  the  entire  field  of  Eng- 
lish literature  would  fill  twice  the  time  at  his  dis- 
posal. Already  he  has  discovered  that  the  elective 
system  is  not  so  very  elective.  He  sadly  omits 
Icelandic  and  Gothic,  and  all  but  one  half  course 
is  Anglo-Saxon.  Some  day  he  means  to  cover  the 
ground  by  means  of  a  history  of  literature  and 
translations ;  but  in  point  of  fact,  as  the  subjects 
are  not  at  all  necessary  for  his  degree,  and  as  he 
is  overburdened  with  other  work,  he  never  does. 

1  For  a  detailed  statement  as  to  the  course  such  a  student  would 
be  able  to  pursue  under  the  English  system  of  honor  schools,  see 
Appendix  III. 

288 


THE  EDUCATIONAL  PEOBLEM 

He  sticks  to  his  last,  and  is  the  more  willing  to  do 
so  because,  being  wise  beyond  the  wont  of  under- 
graduates, he  knows  that  it  will  be  well  to  fortify 
his  knowledge  of  the  English  language  and  litera- 
ture with  a  complementary  knowledge  of  the  his- 
tory of  the  English  people,  and  of  the  history  and 
literature  of  the  neighboring  Germans  and  French. 
Having  barely  time  for  a  rapid  survey  of  these 
complementary  subjects,  he  elects  only  the  intro- 
ductory courses.  In  the  aggregate  they  require 
many  precious  hours,  and  to  take  them  he  is 
obliged  to  omit  outright  English  literature  of  the 
eighteenth  and  nineteenth  centuries  ;  but  he  knows 
that  it  is  better  to  neglect  a  finial  or  two  than 
the  buttresses  of  the  edifice  he  is  building.  Again 
he  has  miscalculated.  After  his  complementary 
courses  are  begun,  and  it  is  too  late  to  withdraw 
from  them,  he  discovers  even  more  clearly  than  the 
specialist  how  very  unelective  the  elective  system 
can  be.  It  is  the  same  old  question  of  the  thimble 
and  the  pea.  These  introductory  courses  are  in- 
tended to  introduce  him  to  the  study  of  history 
and  of  literature,  not  to  complement  his  studies  of 
English.  What  he  wanted  to  know  in  English  his- 
tory was  the  social  and  the  political  movements,  the 
vital  and  picturesque  aspect;  what  he  is  taught 
is  the  sources  and  constitutions  —  the  dry  bones. 
289 


AN  AMEKICAN  AT  OXFOKD 

In  German  and  French  he  wanted  to  know  the 
epochs  of  literature  ;  he  is  taught  the  language, 
considered  scientifically,  or,  at  most,  certain  hap- 
hazard authors  in  whom  he  has  only  a  casual  inter- 
est. If  he  is  studying  for  honors,  he  is  obliged  to 
waste  enough  time  on  these  disappointing  courses 
to  reach  a  high  grade  in  each.  The  system  of 
free  election  is  mighty,  for  he  is  a  slave  to  it. 

This  difficulty  is  typical.  Thus  a  student  of 
history  or  of  German  who  wants  to  study  Eliza- 
bethan literature  for  its  bearing  on  his  subject  is 
obliged  to  spend  one  full  course  —  a  quarter  of  a 
year's  work  —  on  the  language  of  four  or  five 
plays  of  Shakespeare  before  he  is  permitted  to  take 
a  half  course  on  Shakespeare  as  a  dramatist ;  and 
even  then  all  the  rest  of  the  Elizabethan  period  is 
untouched. 

Let  us  suppose  that  our  student  of  English  is 
wary  as  well  as  wise,  preternaturally  wary,  and 
leaves  all  complementary  subjects  to  private  read- 
ing —  for  which  he  has  no  time.  He  is  then  able 
to  devote  himself  to  the  three  or  four  most  impor- 
tant epochs  in  English  literature.  He  has  to  leave 
out  much  that  is  of  importance,  so  that  he  cannot 
hope  to  gain  a  synoptic  view  of  the  field  as  a 
whole  ;  but  of  his  few  subjects  he  will  at  least  be 
master.  Here  at  last  is  the  thimble  that  covers 
290 


THE  EDUCATIONAL  PROBLEM 

the  pea.  Not  yet !  In  four  courses  out  of  five  of 
those  devoted  to  the  greatest  writers,  the  teacher's 
attention  is  directed  primarily  to  a  very  special 
and  scientific  study  of  the  language  ;  the  examina- 
tion consists  in  explaining  linguistic  cruxes.  Lit- 
erary criticism,  even  of  the  most  sober  kind,  is 
quite  neglected.  If  the  student  learns  only  what 
is  taught,  he  may  attain  the  highest  grades  and  the 
highest  honors  without  being  able  in  the  end  to 
distinguish  accurately  the  spirit  of  Chaucer  from 
that  of  Elizabethan  literature. 

Furthermore,  not  every  student  is  sufficiently 
well  advised  to  know  precisely  what  courses  he 
requires  to  attain  his  end.  For  example,  to  gain 
an  understanding  of  the  verse  forms  and  even  the 
spirit  of  Middle  English  and  Elizabethan  English, 
it  is  necessary  to  know  the  older  French  and  Italian ; 
but,  as  it  happened,  our  student  was  not  aware  of 
the  fact  until  he  broke  his  shins  against  it,  and  it 
was  nobody's  business  to  tell  him  of  it.  And  even 
if  he  had  been  aware  of  it,  he  could  not  have  taken 
those  subjects  without  leaving  great  gaps  in  his 
English  studies.  He  has  graduated  summa  cum 
laude  and  with  highest  honors  in  English ;  but  he 
has  not  even  a  correct  outline  knowledge  of  his 
subject.  His  education  is  a  thing  of  shreds  and 
patches. 

291 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

Whatever  may  be  the  aim  of  the  serious  student, 
the  elective  system  is  similarly  fatal  to  it.  I  must 
be  content  with  a  single  instance  more.  The  sig- 
nal merit  of  the  old-fashioned  curriculum  was  that 
its  insistence  on  the  classics  and  mathematics  in- 
sured a  mental  culture  and  discipline  of  a  very 
high  order,  and  of  a  kind  that  is  impossible  where 
the  student  elects  only  purely  scientific  courses,  or 
courses  in  which  he  happens  to  be  especially  inter- 
ested. Let  us  suppose  that  the  serious  student 
wishes  to  elect  his  courses  so  as  to  receive  this  dis- 
cipline. His  plight  is  indicated  in  "  Some  Old- 
fashioned  Doubts  about  New-fashioned  Education  " 
which  have  lately  been  divulged 1  by  the  Dean  of 
Harvard  College,  Professor  Le  B.  R.  Briggs. 
The  undergraduate  "may  choose  the  old  studies 
but  not  the  old  instruction.  Instruction  under  an 
elective  system  is  aimed  at  the  specialist.  In  elec- 
tive mathematics,  for  example,  the  non-mathemati- 
cal student  who  takes  the  study  for  self-discipline 
finds  the  instruction  too  high  for  him ;  indeed,  he 
finds  no  encouragement  for  electing  mathematics 
at  all."     The  same  is  true  of  the  classics. 

One  kind  of  student,  to  be  quite  candid,  profits 
vastly  by  the  elective  system,  namely,  the  student 
whose   artistic   instinct   makes   him  ambitious   of 

1  The  Atlantic  Monthly,  October,  1900. 

292 


THE   EDUCATIONAL   PKOBLEM 

gaining  the  maximum  effect,  an  A.  B.,  with  the 
minimum  expenditure  of  means.  History  D  is  a 
good  course  :  the  lectures  do  not  come  until  eleven 
o'clock,  and  no  thought  of  them  blunts  the  edge 
of  the  evening  before.  Semitic  C  is  another  good 
course  —  only  two  lectures  a  week,  and  you  can 
pass  it  with  a  few  evenings  of  cramming.  If  such 
a  man  is  fortunate  enough  to  have  learned  foreign 
languages  in  the  nursery  or  in  traveling  abroad, 
he  elects  all  the  general  courses  in  French  and 
German.  This  sort  of  man  is  regarded  by  Dean 
Briggs  with  unwonted  impatience  ;  but  he  has  one 
great  claim  to  our  admiration.  Of  all  possible 
kinds  of  students,  he  alone  has  found  the  pea. 
For  him  the  elective  system  is  elective. 

The  men  who  developed  the  elective  system,  it  is 
quite  unnecessary  to  say,  had  no  sinister  intention. 
They  were  pioneers  of  educational  progress  who 
revolted  against  the  narrowness  of  the  old  curric- 
ulum. The  nearest  means  of  reform  was  suggested 
to  them  by  the  German  plan,  and  they  sought  to  nat- 
uralize this  in  toto  without  regard  to  native  needs 
and  conditions.  But  the  pioneer  work  of  the  elec- 
tive system  has  been  done,  and  the  men  who  now 
uphold  it  in  its  entirety  are  clogging  the  wheels  of 
progress  no  less  than  those  who  fought  it  at  the  out- 
set. The  logic  of  circumstances  early  forced  them 
293 


AN  AMEEICAN  AT  OXFORD 

to  the  theory  that  all  knowledge  is  of  equal  impor- 
tance, provided  only  that  it  is  scientifically  pursued, 
and  this  position  in  effect  they  still  maintain. 
You  may  elect  to  study  Shakespeare  and  end  by 
studying  American  finance  legislation  ;  but  so  long 
as  you  are  compelled  to  study  scientifically,  bless 
you,  you  are  free. 

The  serenity  of  these  men  must  of  late  have  been 
somewhat  clouded.  Professor  Hugo  Miinsterberg, 
as  an  editorial  writer  in  "  Scribner's  Magazine  " 
lately  remarked,  "  has  been  explaining,  gently  but 
firmly,  ostensibly  to  the  teachers  in  secondary 
schools,  but  really  to  his  colleagues  in  the  Harvard 
faculty,  that  they  are  not  imitating  the  German 
method  successfully."  In  no  way  is  the  American 
college  man  in  the  same  case  as  the  German  under- 
graduate. His  preparatory  schooling  is  likely  to 
be  three  years  in  arrears,  and,  in  any  case,  what  he 
seeks  is  usually  culture,  not  science.  "  The  new 
notion  of  scholarship,"  this  writer  continues,  "  by 
which  the  degree  means  so  much  Latin  and  Greek, 
or  the  equivalent  of  them  in  botany  or  blacksmith- 
ing,  finds  no  favor  at  all  in  what  is  supposed  to 
be  the  native  soil  of  the  '  elective  system.'  "  Dr. 
Miinsterberg's  own  words,  guarded  as  they  are,  are 
not  without  point :  "  Even  in  the  college  two  thirds 
of  the  elections  are  haphazard,  controlled  by  acci- 
294 


THE   EDUCATIONAL   PROBLEM 

dental  motives ;  election,  of  course,  demands  a 
wide  view  and  broad  knowledge  of  the  whole  field. 
...  A  helter-skelter  chase  of  the  unknown  is  no 
election."  The  writer  in  "  Scribner's  "  concludes  : 
"  It  is  not  desirable  that  a  man  should  sell  his 
birthright  for  a  mess  of  pottage,  even  if  he  gets  the 
pottage.  If  he  does  not  get  it,  as  Dr.  Miinsterberg 
intimates,  of  course  his  state  is  even  worse." 

Rough  as  the  elective  system  is  upon  the  student 
who  aspires  to  be  merely  a  scholar,  it  is  rougher  on 
the  undergraduate  who  only  wants  to  train  his  mind 
and  to  equip  it  for  business  and  professional  life. 
To  him  a  purely  scientific  training  is  usually  a  posi- 
tive detriment.  Scrupulous  exactitude  and  a  sense 
of  the  elusiveness  of  all  knowledge  are  an  excellent 
and  indispensable  part  of  the  bringing  up  of  a 
scholar ;  but  few  things  are  more  fitted,  if  pursued 
exclusively,  to  check  the  self-confidence  of  a  normal 
man  and  to  blight  his  will.  Poor  Richard  had  a 
formula  for  the  case  :  "  A  handsaw  is  a  very  good 
thing,  but  not  to  shave  with."  Before  taking  a 
vigorous  hold  on  the  affairs  of  Wall  Street  or  of 
Washington,  our  recent  graduate  has  first  to  get 
away  from  most  of  the  standards  that  obtain  in  the 
university,  or  at  least  to  supplement  them  by  a 
host  of  others  which  he  should  have  learned  there. 
In  another  passage  in  the  article  already  quoted, 
295 


AN  AMEKICAN  AT  OXFOED 

Dean  Briggs  has  touched  the  vital  spot.  He  is 
speaking  of  the  value,  to  teachers  especially,  of  the 
peculiar  fetich  of  Teutonized  university  instruction, 
the  thesis,  and  of  its  liability  to  be  of  fictitious  value. 
"  Such  theses,  I  suspect,  have  more  than  once  been 
accepted  for  higher  degrees ;  yet  higher  degrees 
won  through  them  leave  the  winner  farther  from 
the  best  qualities  of  a  teacher,  remote  from  men 
and  still  more  remote  from  boys.  It  was  a  relief 
the  other  day  to  hear  a  head-master  say,  '  I  am 
looking  for  an  under-teacher.  I  want  first  a  man, 
and  next  a  man  to  teach.'  "  What  is  true  of  teach- 
ing is  even  more  obviously  true  of  the  great  world 
of  business  and  of  politics.  What  it  wants  is  men. 
The  cause  of  the  break-down  of  the  elective  sys- 
tem, as  at  present  constituted,  is  to  be  found  in  the . 
machinery  of  instruction.  The  office  of  the  teacher 
has  become  inextricably  mixed  up  with  a  totally 
alien  office  —  university  discipline.  Attendance 
at  lectures  is  the  only  means  of  recording  a  student's 
presence  in  the  university,  and  success  in  the  ex- 
amination in  lecture  courses  is  the  only  basis  for 
judging  of  his  diligence.  At  the  tolling  of  a  bell 
the  student  leaves  all  other  affairs  to  report  at  a  cer- 
tain place.  In  the  Middle  Ages,  as  we  have  seen, 
lectures  were  of  necessity  the  main  means  of  instruc- 
tion. Books  were  rare  and  their  prices  prohibitive. 
.      296 


THE   EDUCATIONAL  PROBLEM 

The  master  read  and  the  student  copied.  To-day, 
there  are  tens  of  thousands  of  books  in  every  col- 
lege library.  Only  in  the  higher  courses  are  lectures 
necessary  or  profitable.  But  still  instruction  is 
carried  on,  even  in  the  most  general  courses,  by 
means  of  professorial  lectures.  Where  great  periods 
are  covered  by  leaps  and  bounds,  freshness  or  indi- 
viduality of  treatment  is  quite  impossible.  The  toll- 
ing of  the  college  bell  dooms  hundreds  of  students 
to  hear  a  necessarily  hurried  and  inarticulate  state- 
ment of  knowledge  which  has  been  carefully  handled 
in  printed  form  by  the  most  brilliant  writers,  and 
to  which  a  tutor  might  refer  the  student  in  a  few 
minutes'  conference.  Modify  the  lecture  system  ? 
It  is  the  foundation  of  the  police  regulation.  The 
boasted  freedom  in  elective  studies  simmers  down 
to  this,  that  it  enables  the  student  to  choose  in 
what  courses  he  shall  be  made  the  unwilling  ally 
of  the  administrative  officer.  The  lectures  waste 
the  time  of  the  student  and  exhaust  the  energy 
of  the  teacher ;  but  unless  the  lecturers  give  them 
and  the  studious  attend,  how  can  the  university 
know  that  the  shiftless  stay  away  ? 

It  is  necessary,  moreover,  for  the  administrator 

to  judge  of  the  student's  success  as  well  as  of  his 

diligence.     Twice  every  year  the  professors  hold 

an  examination  lasting  for  three  hours  in  each  of 

297 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFOED 

their  several  courses.  Of  late  years  an  ingenious 
means  has  been  devised  for  making  the  examina- 
tion system  an  even  more  perfect  ally  of  the  police. 
In  the  middle  of  each  term  an  examination  of  one 
hour  is  held  to  insure  that  the  student  has  not 
only  attended  lectures  but  studied  outside ;  and,  in 
order  to  expose  the  procrastinator,  it  has  become 
the  custom  for  the  examination  to  be  given  without 
warning.  Like  the  lecture  system,  the  examination 
system  throws  the  onus  of  discipline  on  the  studious 
and  the  teachers.  Two  thousand  students  write 
yearly  32,000  examination  books.  Quite  obviously 
the  most  advanced  of  the  professors  cannot  spare 
time  for  the  herculean  task  of  reading  and  duly 
grading  their  share  of  these  books.  They  give  over 
most  of  them  to  underpaid  assistants.  The  logical 
result  of  such  a  system  is  that  the  examinations 
tend  to  be  regarded  merely  as  statements  of  fact, 
and  the  reading  of  the  books  merely  as  clerical 
labor.  If  academic  distinctions  are  disprized  in 
America,  both  in  college  and  out  of  it,  this  is  amply 
explained  by  the  fact  that  they  attest  a  student's 
diligence  rather  than  his  ability.  They  are  awarded, 
like  a  Sunday-school  prize,  in  return  for  a  certain 
number  of  good-conduct  checks. 

It  is  not  enough  that  the  machinery  of  instruction 
wastes  the  time  of  the  student  and  debases  the  office 
298 


THE   EDUCATIONAL  PROBLEM 

of  the  examiner ;  it  is,  as  I  have  said,  the  cause  of 
the  break-down  of  the  elective  system.  As  long  as 
each  student  is  required  to  pursue  every  study 
under  the  eye  of  the  disciplinarian,  the  decision  as 
to  what  he  shall  study  rests  not  with  his  desires  or 
his  needs,  but  with  an  elaborate  schedule  of  lectures 
and  examinations.  So  excessive  are  the  evils  of 
the  present  system  that  no  less  a  man  than  Professor 
William  James  has  advocated  the  abolition  of  the 
examinations. 

This  remedy  is  perhaps  extreme  ;  but  the  only 
alternative  is  almost  as  radical.  It  is  to  enable  the 
student,  at  least  the  more  serious  student,  to  slip 
the  trammels  of  the  elective  system,  and  to  study 
rationally,  and  to  be  rationally  examined  in,  the 
subject  or  group  of  subjects  which  he  prefers.  In 
a  word,  the  remedy  is  to  divide  and  organize  our 
courses  of  instruction  for  the  more  serious  students 
into  groups  corresponding  in  some  measure  to  what 
the  English  call  honor  schools. 

It  may  be  objected  that  already  it  is  possible  to 
read  for  honors.  The  objection  will  scarcely  con- 
vince any  one  who  has  taken  the  examination.  It 
is  oral,  and  occupies  an  hour  or  two.  The  men 
who  conduct  it  are  leading  men  in  the  department, 
and  are  often  of  world-wide  reputation.  They  are  so 
great  that  they  understand  the  nature  of  the  farce 
299 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

they  are  playing.  No  candidate  is  expected  to  have 
covered  the  field  of  his  honor  subject  even  in  the 
broadest  outlines.  When  the  astute  student  is  not 
sure  of  an  answer,  he  candidly  admits  the  fact  and 
receives  credit  for  knowing  that  he  does  not  know 
—  a  cardinal  virtue  to  the  scientific  mind.  If  I 
may  be  allowed  a  personal  instance,  I  went  up  for 
the  examination  in  English  literature  in  complete 
ignorance  as  to  all  but  a  single  brief  movement. 
When  my  ignorances  were  laid  bare,  the  examin- 
ers most  considerately  confined  their  questions  to 
my  period.  We  had  much  pleasant  conversation. 
Each  of  the  examiners  had  imparted  in  his  courses 
his  latest  rays  of  new  light,  and  each  in  turn  gave 
me  the  privilege  of  reflecting  these  rays  to  the 
others.  For  a  brief  but  happy  hour  my  importance 
was  no  less  than  that  of  the  most  eminent  publica- 
tion of  the  learned  world.  It  need  scarcely  be  said 
that  such  examinations  are  not  supposed  to  have 
much  weight  in  judging  of  the  candidate's  fitness. 
A  more  important  test  is  a  thesis  studied  from 
original  sources,  and  the  most  important  is  good- 
conduct  marks  in  a  certain  arbitrary  number  of  set 
lecture  courses.  The  policeman's  examination  is 
supreme. 


300 


IV 

THE  AMERICAN  HALL 

THE  college  has  shown  a  tendency,  as  I  have 
indicated,  to  divide  in  its  social  life  into  sep- 
arate organizations  for  the  purposes  of  residence, 
dining,  and  athletics.  In  the  administrative  life, 
at  least  the  proctors  and  the  freshman  advisers  are 
each  in  charge  of  separate  bodies  of  undergradu- 
ates. In  the  educational  life,  a  similar  tendency 
is  noticeable.  Year  by  year  there  has  been  an 
increasing  disposition  to  supplement  lectures  or 
to  substitute  them  by  what  is  in  effect  tutorial 
instruction.  In  the  history  courses,  for  example, 
the  lectures  and  examinations  have  for  some  time 
been  supplemented  by  private  personal  confer- 
ences. If  the  student  is  proceeding  properly,  he 
is  encouraged;  if  not,  he  is  given  the  necessary 
guidance  and  assistance.  I  do  not  know  what  the 
result  has  been  in  the  teaching  of  history ;  but  in 
the  teaching  of  English  composition,  where  the 
conferences  have  largely  supplanted  lectures,  it 
has  been  an  almost  unmixed  benefit.  The  in- 
structor's comments  are  given  a  directness  and  a 
301 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

personal  interest  impossible  either  in  the  lecture- 
room  or  by  means  of  written  correction  and  crit- 
icism; and  the  students  are  usually  eager  to  dis- 
cuss their  work  and  the  means  for  bettering  it. 
As  the  lecture  system  proves  more  and  more  inad- 
equate, the  tutorial  instruction  must  necessarily 
continue  to  increase,  and  is  not  unlikely  to  afford 
the  basis  for  a  more  sensibly  devised  scheme  of 
honor  schools. 

If  the  American  college  were  organized  into 
separate  halls,  it  would  be  necessary  and  proper, 
as  Mr.  Bolles  suggested,  to  place  in  each  a  Dean 
and  administrative  board ;  and  the  most  econo- 
mical plan  of  administration,  as  he  pointed  out, 
would  be  to  give  each  administrator  as  many 
duties  as  possible  toward  a  single  set  of  pupils. 
Thus  the  proctor  on  each  staircase  of  the  hall 
would  be  the  adviser  of  the  men  who  roomed  on  it. 
It  would  be  only  a  logical  extension  of  the  prin- 
ciple to  give  the  proctor-adviser  a  tutorial  office. 
All  this  indicates  a  reversion  toward  the  golden 
age  of  the  mediaeval  hall. 

Here  is  where  the  gain  would  lie :  The  ad- 
ministration of  the  hall  would  make  it  no  longer 
necessary  to  rely  on  the  lecture  courses  for  police 
duty,  and  the  wise  guidance  of  a  tutor  would  in 
some  measure  remove  the  necessity  of  the  recur- 
302 


THE  AMERICAN  HALL 

rent  police  examinations.  Thus  the  student  would 
be  able  to  elect  such  courses  only  as  the  compe- 
tent adviser  might  judge  best  for  him  ;  and  if  the 
faculty  were  relieved  of  the  labor  of  unnecessary 
instruction  and  examination  it  would  be  possible, 
with  less  expense  than  the  present  system  involves, 
to  offer  a  well-considered  honor  examination,  and 
to  provide  that  the  examination  books  should  be 
graded  not  with  mere  clerical  intelligence,  but  with 
the  highest  available  critical  appreciation.  Thus 
and  only  thus  can  the  American  honor  degree  be 
given  that  value  as  an  asset  which  the  English 
honor  degree  has  possessed  for  almost  a  century. 

It  would  by  no  means  be  necessary  as  at  Oxford 
to  make  the  honor  examination  the  only  basis  for 
granting  the  degree.  The  fewer  lecture  courses 
which  the  student  found  available  would  be  those 
in  which  the  instruction  is  more  advanced  —  the 
"  university  "  courses  properly  speaking ;  and  his 
examinations  in  these  would  be  a  criterion,  such  as 
Oxford  is  very  much  in  need  of,  for  correcting  the 
evidence  of  the  honor  examination.  Furthermore, 
in  connection  with  one  or  more  of  these  courses  it 
would  be  easy  for  the  student  to  prepare  an  honor 
thesis  studied  from  the  original  sources  under  the 
constant  advice  of  a  university  professor.  Such 
an  arrangement  might  be  made  to  combine  in  any 
303     ' 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

desired  proportion  the  merits  of  the  English 
honor  schools  with  the  merits  of  advanced  instruc- 
tion in  America.  With  the  introduction  of  the 
tutor,  the  American  hall  would  be  the  complete 
counterpart  of  the  mediaeval  hall  of  the  golden  age, 
and  would  solve  the  educational  as  well  as  the 
social  and  administrative  problem. 

As  to  the  details  of  the  new  system,  experience 
would  be  the  final  teacher ;  but  for  a  first  experi- 
ment, the  English  arrangement  is  in  its  main  out- 
line suggestive.  An  American  pass  degree  might 
be  taken  by  electing,  as  all  students  now  elect,  a 
certain  number  of  courses  at  random.  For  the 
increasing  number  of  those  who  can  afford  only 
three  years'  study,  a  pass  degree  would  probably 
prove  of  the  greatest  advantage.  It  was  by  mak- 
ing this  sharp  distinction  between  the  pass  degree 
and  the  honor  degree  that  the  English  universities 
long  ago  solved  the  question,  much  agitated  still 
in  America,  of  the  three  years'  course.  For  the 
honor  men *  two  general  examinations  would  prob- 
ably suffice.  For  his  second  year  honor  exami- 
nation (the  English  "  Moderations ")  a  student 
might  select  from  three  or  four  general  groups. 
This  examination  would  necessarily  offer  precisely 

1  For  full  details  as  to  the  scheme  of  an  English  honor  school, 
see  Appendix  III. 

304 


THE  AMERICAN  HALL 

that  opportunity  for  mental  culture  the  lack  of 
which  Dean  Briggs  laments  as  the  worst  feature 
of  the  elective  system  as  at  present  conducted. 
Furthermore,  it  would  be  easy  to  arrange  the  sec- 
ond year  honor  groups  so  as  to  include  only  such 
subjects  as  are  serviceable  both  for  the  purposes 
of  a  general  education  and  to  lead  up  to  the  sub- 
jects the  student  is  likely  to  elect  for  final  honors. 
For  the  final  honor  examination  the  student  might 
choose  from  a  dozen  or  more  honor  groups,  in  any 
one  of  which  he  would  receive  scientific  culture 
of  the  most  advanced  type,  while  at  the  same  time, 
by  means  of  private  reading  under  his  tutor,  he 
might  fill  in  very  pleasantly  the  outlines  of  his 
subject.  It  is  probable  that  such  a  system  would 
even  facilitate  the  efforts  of  those  who  are  en- 
deavoring to  transplant  German  standards.  Ac- 
cording to  Professor  Miinsterberg,  the  student  who 
specializes  in  the  German  university  is  a  good 
two  years  or  more  in  advance  of  the  American 
freshman.  The  spirit  of  German  instruction  would 
thus  require  that  the  period  of  general  culture  be 
extended  at  least  to  the  middle  of  the  undergradu- 
ate course. 

Some  such   reorganization   of   our   methods  of 
teaching  and  examining,  and  I  fear  only  this,  would 
enable  an  undergraduate  to  choose  what  he  wants 
305 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFOKD 

and  to  pursue  it  with  a  fair  chance  of  success.  It 
would  make  the  elective  system  elective. 

A  concrete  plan  for  an  American  hall  will  per- 
haps make  the  project  clearer.  The  poorer  stu- 
dents at  Harvard  have  for  some  years  had  a  sepa- 
rate dining-hall,  Foxcrof t,  where  the  fare  and  the 
system  of  paying  for  it  are  adapted  to  the  slender- 
est of  purses.  They  have  also  lived  mainly  in 
certain  primitive  dormitories  in  which  the  rooms 
are  cheapest.  More  than  any  other  set  of  men 
except  the  clubmen  they  are  a  united  body,  or  are 
capable  of  being  made  so.  When  next  a  bequest 
is  received,  might  not  the  University  erect  a  build- 
ing in  which  a  hundred  or  two  of  these  men  could 
live  in  common?  The  quadrangle  would  insure 
privacy,  the  first  requisite  of  community  life  ;  the 
kitchen  and  dining-hall  would  insure  the  maxi- 
mum comfort  and  convenience  with  the  minimum 
expense.  Nothing  could  contribute  more  to  the 
self-respect  and  the  general  standing  of  the  poorer 
students  than  a  comfortable  and  well-ordered  place 
and  way  of  living,  if  only  because  nothing  could 
more  surely  correct  the  idiosyncrasies  in  manners 
and  appearance  which  are  fostered  by  their  pre- 
sent discomfort  and  isolation. 

The  life  of  the  hall  would  not  of  course  be  as 
strictly  regulated  as  the  life  in  an  English  college 
306 


THE  AMERICAN  HALL 

■ — perhaps  no  more  strictly  than  in  any  other 
American  college  building.  If  in  the  hope  of  cre- 
ating a  closer  community  feeling  stricter  rules  were 
adopted,  they  should  be  adopted,  as  in  a  mediaeval 
hall,  only  by  consent  of  the  undergraduates. 

Such  a  hall  would  develop  athletic  teams  of  its 
own,  and  would  produce  university  athletes.  Under 
the  present  arrangement,  when  the  poorer  students 
are  members  of  university  teams,  they  may,  and 
often  do,  become  honorary  members  of  the  univer- 
sity clubs  ;  but  their  lack  of  means  and  sometimes 
of  the  manner  of  the  world  make  it  difficult  for 
them  to  be  at  home  in  the  clubs;  their  social  life 
is  usually  limited  to  a  small  circle  of  friends.  If 
they  had  first  been  trained  in  the  life  of  a  hall, 
they  would  more  easily  fall  in  with  the  broader  life 
outside  ;  and  instead  of  being  isolated  as  at  pre- 
sent, they  would  exert  no  small  influence  both  in 
their  hall  and  in  the  university.  Few  things  could 
be  better  for  the  general  life  of  the  undergraduate 
than  the  cooperation  of  such  men,  and  few  things 
could  be  better  for  the  members  of  a  hall  than  to 
be  brought  by  means  of  its  leading  members  into 
close  connection  with  the  life  of  the  university. 

If  such  a  hall  were  successful,  it  could  not  fail 
to  attract  serious  students  of  all  sorts  and  condi- 
tions. At  Oxford,  Balliol  has  for  generations  been 
307 


AN  AMERICAN  AT  OXFORD 

known  as  in  the  main  unfashionable  and  scholarly ; 
but  it  is  seldom  without  a  blue  or  two,  and  its  eight 
has  often  been  at  the  head  of  the  river.  As  a  re-, 
suit  of  all  this,  it  never  ceases  to  attract  the  more 
serious  men  from  the  aristocracy  and  even  the  no- 
bility. In  America,  the  success  of  one  residential 
hall  would  probably  lead  to  the  establishment  of 
others,  so  that  in  the  end  the  life  of  the  university 
might  be  given  all  the  advantages  of  a  dual  organ- 
ization. 

No  change  could  be  more  far  reaching  and  bene- 
ficial. The  American  institutions  of  the  present 
are  usually  divided  into  two  classes,  the  university, 
or  "  large  college,"  and  the  "  small  college."  The 
merit  of  the  large  colleges  is  that  those  fortu- 
nately placed  in  them  gain  greater  familiarity  with 
the  ways  of  the  world  and  of  men,  while  for  those 
who  wish  it,  they  offer  more  advanced  instruction 
—  the  instruction  characteristic  of  German  univer- 
sities. But  to  the  increasing  number  of  undergrad- 
uates who  are  not  fortunately  placed,  their  very  size 
is  the  source  of  unhappiness;  and  for  those  under- 
graduates who  wish  anything  else  than  scientific  in- 
struction, their  virtues  become  merely  a  detriment. 
It  is  for  this  reason  that  many  wise  parents  still 
prefer  to  intrust  the  education  of  their  sons  to  the 
small  colleges.  These  small  colleges  possess  many 
308 


THE   AMERICAN  HALL 

of  the  virtues  of  the  English  universities  ;  they 
train  the  mind  and  cultivate  it,  and  at  the  same 
time  develop  the  social  man.  If  now  the  American 
university  were  to  divide  its  undergraduate  depart- 
ment into  organized  residential  halls,  it  would  com- 
bine the  advantages  of  the  two  types  of  American 
institution,  which  are  the  two  types  of  instruction 
the  world  over./'  Already  our  college  life  at  its 
best  is  as  happy  as  the  college  life  in  England ; 
and  the  educational  advantages  of  the  four  or  five 
of  our  leading  universities  are  rapidly  becoming 
equal  to  those  of  the  four  or  five  leading  universi- 
ties in  Germany.  A  combination  of  the  residential 
iall  and  the  teaching  university  would  reproduce 
the  highest  type  of  the  university  of  the  Middle 
Ages ;  and  in  proportion  as  life  and  knowledge 
have  been  bettered  in  six  hundred  years,  it  would 
better  that  type.  England  has  lost  the  educational 
virtues  of  the  mediaeval  university,  while  Germany, 
in  losing  the  residential  halls,  has  lost  its  peculiar 
social  virtues.  When  the  American  university 
combines  the  old  social  life  with  the  new  instruc- 
tion, it  will  be  the  most  perfect  educational  instruc- 
tion in  the  history  of  civilization. 


APPENDIX 


APPENDIX 

I.  ATHLETIC  TRAINING  IN  ENGLAND 

TN  one  or  two  particulars  it  seemed  to  me  that  we  might 
-*■  learn  from  the  English  methods  of  training.  On  the 
Oxford  team  we  took  long  walks  every  other  day  instead 
of  track  work.  Our  instructions  were  to  climb  all  the 
hills  in  our  way.  This  was  in  order  to  bring  into  play 
new  muscles  as  far  as  possible,  so  as  to  rest  those  used 
in  running.  Though  similar  walks  are  sometimes  given 
in  America  as  a  preliminary  il  seasoning,"  our  training, 
for  months  before  a  meeting,  is  confined  to  the  track. 
This  is  not  unwise  as  long  as  a  runner's  stride  needs 
developing ;  and  in  the  heat  of  our  summers  such  walks 
as  the  English  take  might  sometimes  prove  exhausting. 
Yet  my  personal  observations  convinced  me  that  for  dis- 
tance runners  —  and  for  sprinters,  too,  perhaps  —  the 
English  method  is  far  better.  Under  our  training  the 
muscles  often  seem  overpowered  by  nervous  lassitude  ;  at 
the  start  of  a  race  I  have  often  felt  it  an  effort  to  stand. 
In  England  there  was  little  or  none  of  this ;  we  felt,  as 
the  bottle-holders  are  fond  of  putting  it,  "  like  a  magnum 
of  champagne." 

This  idea  of  long  walks,  which  the  English  have  ar- 
rived at  empirically,  has   been   curiously  approved   in 
313 


APPENDIX 

America  by  scientific  discovery.  It  has  been  shown 
that  after  muscles  appear  too  stiff  from  exhaustion  to 
move,  they  can  be  excited  to  action  by  electric  cur- 
rents ;  while  the  motor  nerves  on  being  examined  after 
such  fatigue  are  found  to  be  shrunken  and  empty,  as  in 
extreme  old  age.  The  limit  of  muscular  exertion  is  thus 
clearly  determined  by  the  limit  of  the  energy  of  the  motor 
nerve.  Now  in  a  perfectly  trained  runner,  the  heart  and 
lung  must  obviously  reach  their  prime  simultaneously 
with  the  motor  nerves  used  in  running  ;  but  since  these 
organs  are  ordained  to  supply  the  entire  system  with  fuel, 
they  will  usually  require  a  longer  time  to  reach  prime 
condition  than  any  single  set  of  nerves.  Thus  continual 
track  work  is  likely  to  develop  the  running  nerves  to  the 
utmost  before  the  heart  and  lungs  are  at  prime.  Con- 
versely stated,  if  the  development  of  the  running  nerves 
is  retarded  so  as  to  keep  pace  with  the  development  of 
the  heart  and  lungs,  the  total  result  is  likely  to  be  higher. 
All  this  amounts  to  what  any  good  English  trainer  will 
tell  you  —  that  you  must  take  long  walks  on  up  and  down 
grades  in  order  to  rest  your  running  muscles  and  at  the 
same  time  give  your  heart  and  lungs  plenty  of  work  — 
that  is,  in  order  to  keep  from  getting  "track  stale." 

The  amount  of  work  we  did  from  day  to  day  will  best 
be  understood,  perhaps,  by  quoting  one  or  two  of  the 
training-cards.  For  the  hundred  yards  the  training 
during  the  final  ten  days  was  as  follows  :  Monday  and 
Tuesday -,  sprints  (three  or  four  dashes  of  sixty  yards  at 
top  speed)  ;  Wednesday,  a  fast  120  yards  at  the  Queen's 
314 


APPENDIX 

Club  grounds ;  Thursday,  walk  ;  Friday,  sprints  ;  Sat- 
urday, 100  yards  trial  at  Queen's  Club  ;  Sunday,  walk  ; 
Monday,  light  work  at  Queen's  Club ;  Tuesday,  easy 
walk ;  Wednesday,  inter-varsity  sports.  The  man  for 
whom  this  card  was  written  happened  to  be  over  weight 
and  short  of  training,  or  he  would  have  had  less  track 
work.  If  he  had  been  training  for  the  quarter  in  addi- 
tion to  the  hundred,  he  would  have  had  fewer  sprints, 
and,  instead  of  the  fast  120,  a  trial  quarter  a  week 
before  the  sports,  with  perhaps  a  fast  200  on  the  follow- 
ing Friday.  For  the  mile,  the  following  is  a  character- 
istic week's  work,  ending  with  a  trial :  Sunday,  walk ; 
Monday,  one  lap  (£  mile)  ;  Tuesday,  two  laps,  fast- 
ish  ;  Wednesday,  walk  ;  Thursday,  easy  mile ;  Friday, 
walk ;  Saturday,  a  two  lap  trial  (at  the  rate  of  4.30 
for  the  mile).  For  the  three  miles,  the  following  is  a 
schedule  of  the  first  ten  days  (the  walks  are  unusually 
frequent  because  the  **  first  string  "  had  a  bruise  on  the 
ball  of  his  foot)  :  Monday,  walk ;  Tuesday,  walk ; 
Wednesday,  two  slow  laps  at  the  Queen's  Club ;  Thurs- 
day, walk  ;  Friday,  walk  ;  Saturday,  a  long  run  at  the 
Queen's  Club  ;  Sunday,  walk  ;  Monday,  four  laps,  fast- 
ish,  at  the  Queen's  Club ;  Tuesday,  walk  ;  Wednesday, 
inter-varsity  sports.  The  chief  difference  between  this 
work  and  what  we  should  give  in  America  is  in  the 
matter  of  walking. 


315 


APPENDIX 

n.  CLIMATE  AND  INTERNATIONAL  ATHLETICS 
The  value  of  international  contests  as  a  basis  for  com- 
paring English  and  American  training  is  impaired  by 
the  fact  that  the  visiting  team  is  pretty  sure  to  be  under 
the  weather,  as  may  be  indicated  by  summarizing  the 
history  of  international  contests.  The  first  representa- 
tives we  sent  abroad,  the  Harvard  four-oared  crew  of 
1869,  became  so  overtrained  on  the  Thames  on  work 
which  would  have  been  only  sufficient  at  home,  that  two 
of  the  four  men  had  to  be  substituted.  The  substitutes 
were  taken  from  the  "second"  crew,  which  had  just 
come  over  from  the  race  at  Worcester.  The  men  in  this 
crew  had  been  so  inferior  as  oarsmen  that  they  had  been 
allowed  to  compete  against  Yale  only  after  vigorous  pro- 
test ;  but  in  the  race  against  Oxford,  owing  probably  to 
the  brevity  of  their  training  in  England,  the  substitutes 
pulled  the  strongest  oars  in  the  boat.  The  crew  got  off 
very  well,  but  when  the  time  came  for  the  final  effort, 
the  two  original  members  had  not  the  nervous  stamina 
to  respond. 

The  experience  of  the  Yale  athletes  who  competed 
against  Oxford  in  1894  was  much  the  same.  Their  per- 
formances in  the  games  were  so  far  below  their  Ameri- 
can form  that  they  won  only  the  events  in  which  they 
literally  outclassed  their  opponents  —  the  hammer,  shot, 
and  broad  jump.  They  were  sportsmen  enough  not  to 
explain  their  poor  showing,  and  perhaps  they  never  quite 
realized  how  the  soft  and  genial  English  summer  had 
316 


APPENDIX 

unnerved  them ;  but  several  competent  observers  who  had 
watched  their  practice  told  me  that  they  lost  form  from 
day  to  day.  Their  downfall  was  doubtless  aided  by  the 
fact  that  instead  of  training  at  Brighton  or  elsewhere  on 
the  coast,  they  trained  in  the  Thames  valley  and  at 
Oxford. 

The  experience  of  the  Cornell  crew,  of  which  I  got 
full  and  frank  information  while  crossing  the  Atlantic 
with  them  after  the  race,  was  along  the  same  lines.  Be- 
fore leaving  Ithaca,  they  rowed  over  the  equivalent  of 
the  Henley  course  in  time  that  was  well  under  seven 
minutes,  and  not  far  from  the  Henley  record  of  six 
minutes,  fifty-one  seconds.  At  Henley  they  rowed  their 
first  trial  in  seven  minutes  and  three  seconds,  if  my  mem- 
ory serves,  and  in  consequence  were  generally  expected 
to  win.  From  that  day  they  grew  worse  and  worse.  Cer- 
tain of  the  eight  went  stale  and  had  to  be  substituted.  In 
the  race  the  crew,  like  the  earlier  Harvard  crew,  went  to 
pieces  when  they  were  called  on  for  a  spurt  —  the  test  of 
nerve  force  in  reserve  —  and  were  beaten  in  wretchedly 
slow  time.  They  had  gone  hopelessly  stale  on  work 
which  would  have  been  none  too  much  in  America. 

The  experience  of  the  Yale  crew  in  the  year  after  was 
similar  to  that  of  Harvard  and  Cornell.  The  crew 
went  to  pieces  and  lost  the  race  for  the  lack  of  precisely 
that  burst  of  energy  for  which  American  athletes,  and 
Yale  in  particular,  are  remarkable. 

Meantime  one  or  two  American  athletes  training  at 
Oxford  had  been  gathering  experience,  which,  humble 
317 


APPENDIX 

though  it  was,  had  the  merit  of  being  thorough.  Mr.  J. 
L.  Bremer,  who  will  be  remembered  in  America  as  mak- 
ing a  new  world's  record  over  the  low  hurdles,  steadily- 
lost  suppleness  and  energy  at  Oxford,  so  that  he  was 
beaten  in  the  quarter  mile  in  time  distinctly  inferior  to 
his  best  in  America.  Clearly,  the  effect  of  the  English 
climate  is  to  relax  the  nervous  system  and  thereby  to 
reduce  the  athlete's  power  both  of  sprinting  per  se  and 
of  spurting  at  the  finish  of  the  race.  My  own  experi- 
ence in  English  training  confirmed  the  conclusion,  and 
pointed  to  an  interesting  extension  of  it.  I  was  forced 
to  conclude  that  the  first  few  weeks  in  England  are 
more  than  likely  to  undo  an  athlete,  and  especially  for 
sprinting  ;  and  even  if  he  stays  long  enough  to  find  him- 
self again,  his  ability  to  sprint  is  likely  to  be  lessened. 
In  the  long  run,  on  the  other  hand,  the  English  climate 
produces  staying  power  in  almost  the  same  proportion 
as  it  destroys  speed. 

When  the  joint  team  of  track  athletes  from  Yale 
and  Harvard  went  to  England  in  1899,  the  powers  that 
were  took  advantage  of  past  experiences,  and  instead 
of  going  to  the  Thames  valley  to  train,  they  went  to 
Brighton ;  and  instead  of  doing  most  of  their  training  in 
England,  they  gave  themselves  only  the  few  days  ne- 
cessary to  get  their  shore  legs  and  become  acquainted 
with  the  Queen's  Club  track.  As  a  result,  the  team  was 
in  general  up  to  its  normal  form,  or  above  it,  and,  except 
for  the  fact  that  one  of  the  men  was  ill,  would  have  won. 

The  experience  of  the  English  athletes  who  came  to 
318 


APPENDIX 

America  in  1895  points  to  a  similar  conclusion.  Though 
the  heat  was  intense  and  oppressive  and  most  of  the 
visitors  were  positively  sick,  one  of  the  sprinters,  in  spite 
of  severe  illness,  was  far  above  his  previous  best,  while 
all  of  the  distance  men  went  quite  to  pieces.  Thus  our 
climate  would  seem  to  reduce  the  staying  power  of  the 
English  athletes,  and  perhaps  to  increase  the  speed  of 
sprinters. 

It  appears  on  the  whole  probable  that  in  these  inter- 
national contests  the  visiting  athlete  had  best  do  as  much 
as  possible  of  his  training  at  home,  and  it  follows  that 
the  visiting  team  is  at  a  distinct  and  inevitable  disad- 
vantage. 


HI.  AN  OXFORD  FINAL  HONOR  SCHOOL 

The  scope  and  content  of  an  English  honor  school  is 
well  illustrated  in  the  following  passage  from  the  Oxford 
examination  statutes,  which  treats  of  the  final  school  in 
English  literature.  The  system  will  be  seen  to  be  very 
different  from  a  system  under  which  a  student  may 
receive  honors  in  ignorance  of  all  but  a  single  move- 
ment in  English  literature. 

§  10.    Of  the  Honour  School  of  English  Language 
and  Literature. 

1.    The  Examination  in  the  School  of  English  Lan- 
guage and  Literature  shall  always  include  authors   or 
portions  of  authors  belonging  to  the  different  periods  of 
319 


APPENDIX 

English  literature,  together  with  the  history  of  the  Eng- 
lish language  and  the  history  of  English  literature. 

The  Examination  shall  also  include  Special  Subjects 
falling  within  or  usually  studied  in  connexion  with  the 
English  language  and  literature. 

2.  Every  Candidate  shall  be  expected  to  have  studied 
the  authors  or  portions  of  authors  which  he  offers  (1) 
with  reference  to  the  forms  of  the  language,  (2)  as 
examples  of  literature,  and  (3)  in  their  relation  to  the 
history  and  thought  of  the  period  to  which  they  be- 
long. 

He  shall  also  be  expected  to  show  a  competent  know- 
ledge (1)  of  the  chief  periods  of  the  English  language, 
including  Old  English  (Anglo-Saxon),  and  (2)  of  the 
relation  of  English  to  the  languages  with  which  it  is 
etymologically  connected,  and  (3)  of  the  history  of  Eng- 
lish literature,  and  (4)  of  the  history,  especially  the 
social  history,  of  England  during  the  period  of  English 
literature  which  he  offers. 

3.  The  Examination  in  Special  Subjects  may  be 
omitted  by  Candidates  who  do  not  aim  at  a  place  in  the 
First  or  Second  Class. 

4.  No  Candidate  shall  be  admitted  to  examination 
in  the  Final  Honour  School  of  English  Language  and 
Literature,  unless  he  has  either  obtained  Honours  in 
some  Final  Honour  School  or  has  passed  the  First  Pub- 
lic Examination  \i.  e.  Moderation], 

5.  The  Examination  shall  be  under  the  supervision  of 
a  Board  of  Studies. 

320 


APPENDIX 

6.  It  shall  be  the  duty  of  the  Board  of  Studies  in 
framing  regulations,  and  also  of  the  Examiners  in  the 
conduct  of  the  Examination,  to  see  that  as  far  as  pos- 
sible equal  weight  is  given  to  language  and  litera- 
ture :  provided  always  that  Candidates  who  offer  Special 
Subjects  shall  be  at  liberty  to  choose  subjects  con- 
nected either  with  language  or  with  literature  or  with 
both. 

7.  The  Board  of  Studies  shall  by  notice  from  time  to 
time  make  regulations  respecting  the  Examination  ;  and 
shall  have  power  — 

(1)  To  prescribe  authors  or  portions  of  authors. 

(2)  To  specify  one  or  more  related  languages  or 
dialects  to  be  offered  either  as  a  necessary  or  as  an 
optional  part  of  the  Examination. 

(3)  To  name  periods  of  the  history  of  English  liter- 
ature, and  to  fix  their  limits. 

(4)  To  issue  lists  of  Special  Subjects  in  connexion 
either  with  language  or  with  literature  or  with  both,  pre- 
scribing books  or  authorities  where  they  think  it  desira- 
ble. 

(5)  To  prescribe  or  recommend  authors  or  portions 
of  authors  in  languages  other  than  English,  to  be  studied 
in  connexion  with  Special  Subjects  to  which  they  are 
intimately  related.  , 

(6)  To  determine  whether  Candidates  who  aim  at  a 
place  in  the  First  or  Second  Class  shall  be  required  to 
offer  more  than  one  Special  Subject. 


321 


APPENDIX 

(ii)    Regulations  of  the  Board  of  Studies  for  the 

Examinations  in  1901  and  1902. 
The  subjects  of  examination  in  this  School  are  — 
I.   Portions  of  English  Authors. 
II.   The  History  of  the  English  Language. 

III.  The  History  of  English  Literature. 

IV.  (In  the  case  of  those  Candidates  who  aim  at  a 
place  in  the  First  or  Second  Class)  a  Special  Subject  of 
Language  or  Literature. 

I.  English  Authors. 

Candidates  will  be  examined  in  the  following  texts :  — 

Beowulf. 

The  texts  printed  in  Sweet's  Anglo-Saxon  Reader. 

King  Horn. 

Havelok. 

Laurence  Minot. 

Sir  Gawain  and  the  Green  Knight. 

Chaucer's  Canterbury  Tales,  the  Prologue  and  the 
following  Tales :  — 

The  Knight's,  The  Man  of  Law's,  The  Prior- 
ess's, Sir  Thopas,  The  Monk's,  The  Nun's 
Priest's,  The  Pardoner's,  The  Clerk's,  The 
Squire's,  The  Second  Nun's,  The  Canon's  Yeo- 
man's. 

Piers  Plowman,  the,  Prologue  and    first    seven 
passus  (text  B). 

Shakespeare,  with  a  special  study  of  the  following 
Plays :  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  King  John, 


322 


APPENDIX 

Much  Ado   about  Nothing,  Macbeth,    Cymbe* 
line. 
Milton,  with  a  special  study  of  Paradise  Lost. 

These  texts  are  to  be  studied  (1)  with  reference  to  the 
forms  of  the  language ;  (2)  as  examples  of  literature ; 
and  (3)  in  their  relation  to  the  history  and  thought  of 
the  period  to  which  they  belong. 

After  Milton  no  special  texts  are  prescribed,  but  Can- 
didates are  expected  to  show  an  adequate  knowledge  of 
the  chief  authors. 

II.  History  of  the  English  Language. 
Candidates   will   be  examined  in  the  Philology  and 

History  of  the  Language,  in  Gothic  (the  Gospel  of  St. 
Mark),  and  in  Translation  from  Old  English  and  Middle 
English  authors  not  specially  offered. 

III.  History  of  English  Literature. 

The  Examination  in  the  History  of  English  Litera- 
ture will  not  be  limited  to  the  prescribed  texts.  It  will 
include  the  history  of  criticism  and  of  style  in  prose  and 
verse  ;  for  these  subjects,  Candidates  are  recommended 
to  consult  the  following  works  :  — 

Sidney,  Apology  for  Poetry. 

Daniel,  Defence  of  Rhyme. 

Dryden,  Essay  of  Dramatic  Poesy,  and  Preface 
to  Fables. 

Addison,  Papers  on  Milton  in  the  Spectator, 

Pope,  Essay  on  Criticism. 


323 


APPENDIX 

Johnson,  Preface  to  Shakespeare  and  Lives  of  the 

Poets. 
Wordsworth,  Prefaces,  etc.,  to  Lyrical  Ballads. 
Coleridge,  Biographia  Literaria. 
IV.  Special  Subjects. 

Candidates  who  aim  at  a  place  in  the  First  or  Second 
Class  will  be  expected  to  offer  a  Special  Subject,  which 
may  be  chosen  from  the  following  list :  — 

1.  Old  English  Language  and  Literature  to  1150 
A.  D. 

2.  Middle  English  Language  and  Literature,  1150- 
1400  A.  D. 

3.  Old  French  Philology,  with  special  reference  to 
Anglo-Norman  French,  together  with  a  special  study  of 
the  following  texts  :  — 

Computus  of  Philippe  de  Thaun,  Voyage  of  St. 
Brandan,  The  Song  of  Dermot  and  the  Earl, 
Les  contes  moralises  de  Nicole  Bozon. 

4.  Scandinavian  Philology,  with  special  reference 
to  Icelandic,  together  with  a  special  study  of  the  fol- 
lowing texts :  — 

Gylfaginning,  Laxdsela  Saga,  Gunnlaugssaga 
Ormstungu. 

5.  Elizabethan  literature,  1558-1637  A.  d. 

6.  English  literature,  1637-1700  A.  d. 

7.  English  literature,  1700-1745  A.  d. 

8.  Wordsworth  and  his  contemporaries,  1797- 
1850  A.  d. 

9.  History  of  Scottish  poetry  to  1600  a.  d. 

324 


APPENDIX 

Candidates  who  desire  to  offer  any  other  subject  or 
period  as  a  Special  Subject  must  obtain  the  leave  of  the 
Board  of  Studies  a  year  before  the  Examination. 

Candidates  who  offer  a  period  of  English  Literature 
will  be  expected  to  show  a  competent  knowledge  of  the 
History,  especially  the  Social  History,  of  England  dur- 
ing such  period. 

The  following  scheme  of  papers  is  contemplated :  — 

1.  Beowulf  and  other  Old  English  texts. 

2.  King  Horn,  Havelok,  Minot,  Sir  Gawain. 

3.  Chaucer  and  Piers  Plowman. 

4.  Shakespeare. 

5.  Milton. 

6.  History  of  the  language. 

7.  Gothic  —  O.  E.  and  M.  E.  translations. 

8.  ->  History  of   the  Literature,  including  questions 

9.  )       on  the  history  of  criticism.    Two  papers,  (1) 

to  1700,  (2)  after  1700. 
10.   Special  Subjects. 


325 


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